Christ a blind man saw one day, as He went along his way.
His disciples asked, “Who sinned, that he blind from birth has been?”
Jesus said, “Sin’s not to blame, but God’s work will now be plain.”
Then He spit upon the ground, made some mud, and put it on.
“Go and wash,” He then did say, and the blind man did obey.
He was blind no more; he now could see.

All the people were confused when they heard about the news.
They said, “Blind you’ve been for life. How then did you gain your sight?”
He said, “Jesus—it was He. He made mud, I washed, now see.”
Then the Pharisees complained, though the miracle was plain.
“This man’s not from God,” they claimed, “for the Sabbath He’s profaned.”
They were blind from sin; they could not see.

The man’s parents then were called and were asked to recount all.
They confessed he was their son, but knew not what Christ had done.
They said, “Ask him; let him tell. He’s of age and can speak well.”
So they summoned him once more. Said, “This Man’s a sinner sure.”
He said, “Whether He has blame, I know not, but this is plain:
Though I once was blind, I now can see!”

Still the Pharisees did rail, asked him to repeat his tale.
Said, “His foll’wer you’ve become, though we don’t know where He’s from.”
He replied, “If not from God, this man could not do such good.”
Then they drove him from that place. Jesus found him in disgrace.
Said, “The Son of Man now speaks; you have seen Him; now believe.”
He said, “I believe; Lord, I believe!”

Jesus came to judge the earth and show sin for what it’s worth.
As He gave the blind man sight, He can cleanse us by His might.
But we must admit we’re blind, or His healing we’ll not find.
If we claim that we can see, we will ever guilty be.
But when we in Him believe, He will then our guilt relieve.
We’ll be blind no more when we believe.

Abide not in the realm of dreams,
O man, however fair it seems;
But with clear eye the present scan,
And hear the call of God and man.

Think not in sleep to fold thy hands,
Forgetful of thy Lord’s commands;
From duty’s claims no life is free,
Behold, today hath need of thee.

The present hour allots thy task,
For present strength and patience ask;
And trust His love Whose sure supply
Meets all thy need abundantly.

All faded is the glowing light
That once from Heaven shone,
When startled shepherds in the night
The angels came upon.

O shine again, ye angel host,
And say that He is near;
Though but a simple few at most
Believe He will appear.

Ye heavens, that have been growing dark,
Now also are ye dumb;
When shall the listeners say, “Hark!
They’re singing—He will come”?

Lord, come again, O come again,
Come even as Thou wilt;
But not anew to suffer pain,
And strive with human guilt.

O come again, Thou mighty King,
Let earth Thy glory see;
And let us hear the angels sing,
“He comes with victory.”

Go, labor on: spend, and be spent,
Thy joy to do the Father’s will:
It is the way the Master went;
Should not the servant tread it still?

Go, labor on! ’tis not for naught
Thine earthly loss is heavenly gain;
Men heed thee, love thee, praise thee not;
The Master praises: what are men?

Go, labor on! enough, while here,
If He shall praise thee, if He deign
The willing heart to mark and cheer:
No toil for Him shall be in vain.

Go, labor on! Your hands are weak,
Your knees are faint, your soul cast down;
Yet falter not; the prize you seek
Is near—a kingdom and a crown.

Go, labor on while it is day:
The world’s dark night is hastening on;
Speed, speed thy work, cast sloth away;
It is not thus that souls are won.

Men die in darkness at thy side,
Without a hope to cheer the tomb;
Take up the torch and wave it wide,
The torch that lights time’s thickest gloom.

Toil on, faint not, keep watch and pray,
Be wise the erring soul to win;
Go forth into the world’s highway,
Compel the wanderer to come in.

Toil on, and in thy toil rejoice!
For toil comes rest, for exile home;
Soon shalt thou hear the Bridegroom’s voice,
The midnight peal, “Behold, I come!”

What! sitting at ease when there’s work to be done!
The best of the day half its circuit has run;
Yon orb to its zenith rides forth in the sky;
What! sitting at ease and the harvest so nigh!

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Oh, look on the fields, that already are white;
The Lord hath commanded to work in the light;
Beware lest, instead of the bright, golden sheaves,
We bring to Him only a handful of leaves.

What! sitting at ease, leaving others the toil
Of training the vineyard and tilling the soil;
This truth in our mind let us constantly keep,
From seed what we scatter the fruit we shall reap.

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What! sitting at ease, when a burden of care
Our brother has borne we might help him to bear;
Oh, let us be earnest, and work while we may,
The Master is calling, arise and away.

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No longer at ease we are folding our hands,
But, willing to do what the Savior commands,
We’ll work till the harvest, then gather the sheaves,
And bring to Him more than a handful of leaves.

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“Must I go, and empty handed,”
Thus my dear Redeemer meet?
Not one day of service give Him,
Lay no trophy at His feet?

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“Must I go, and empty handed?”
Must I meet my Savior so?
Not one soul with which to greet Him,
Must I empty handed go?

Not at death I shrink or falter,
For my Savior saves me now;
But to meet Him empty handed,
Thought of that now clouds my brow.

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O the years in sinning wasted,
Could I but recall them now,
I would give them to my Savior,
To His will I’d gladly bow.

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O ye saints, arouse, be earnest,
Up and work while yet ’tis day;
Ere the night of death o’ertake thee,
Strive for souls while still you may.

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One more day’s work for Jesus,
One less of life for me!
But Heav’n is nearer, and Christ is clearer
Than yesterday, to me.
His love and light fill all my soul tonight.

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One more day’s work for Jesus,
One more day’s work for Jesus,
One more day’s work for Jesus,
One less of life for me!

One more day’s work for Jesus!
How sweet the work has been,
To tell the story, to show the glory,
Where Christ’s flock enters in!
How it did shine in this poor heart of mine.

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One more day’s work for Jesus!
O yes, a weary day;
But Heav’n shines clearer, and rest comes nearer,
At each step of the way;
And Christ in all, before His face I fall.

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O blessèd work for Jesus!
O rest at Jesus’ feet!
There toil seems pleasure, my wants are treasure,
And pain for Him is sweet.
Lord, if I may, I’ll serve another day!

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We are marching on with shield and banner bright,
We will work for God and battle for the right,
We will praise His Name, rejoicing in His might,
And we’ll work till Jesus calls.
In the Sunday School our army we prepare,
As we rally round our blessèd standard there,
And the Savior’s cross we early learn to bear,
While we work till Jesus comes.

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Then awake, then awake, happy song, happy song,
Shout for joy, shout for joy, as we gladly march along.
We are marching onward, singing as we go,
To the promised land where living waters flow;
Come and join our ranks as pilgrims here below,
Come and work till Jesus calls.

We are marching on, our Captain, ever near,
Will protect us still, His gentle voice we hear:
Let the foe advance, we’ll never, never fear,
For we’ll work till Jesus calls.
Then awake, awake, our happy, happy song,
We will shout for joy, and gladly march along;
In the Lord of Hosts let every heart be strong,
While we work till Jesus comes.

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How much as children we can do,
To show our love for Jesus,
For Him who died our souls to save,
For Him who always sees us.

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We’ll work, we’ll work,
We’ll work with willing hand,
We’ll work until the Master calls us
To the promised land.

We’ll be to all both kind and true,
We’ll cheer the sad and lonely,
By telling of the peace they’ll find
In Jesus, and Him only.

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So let us work with loving hands,
With honest, true endeavor,
Until the Maker calls us home,
To dwell with Him forever.

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O land of rest, for thee I sigh!
When will the moment come
When I shall lay my armor by
And dwell in peace at home?

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We’ll work till Jesus comes,
We’ll work till Jesus comes,
We’ll work till Jesus comes,
And we’ll be gathered home.

To Jesus Christ I fled for rest;
He bade me cease to roam,
And lean for comfort on His breast
Till He conduct me home.

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I sought at once my Savior’s side;
No more my steps shall roam.
With Him I’ll brave death’s chilling tide
And reach my heav’nly home.

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Work, for the night is coming,
Work through the morning hours;
Work while the dew is sparkling,
Work ’mid springing flowers;
Work when the day grows brighter,
Work in the glowing sun;
Work, for the night is coming,
When man’s work is done.

Work, for the night is coming,
Work through the sunny noon;
Fill brightest hours with labor,
Rest comes sure and soon.
Give every flying minute,
Something to keep in store;
Work, for the night is coming,
When man works no more.

Work, for the night is coming,
Under the sunset skies;
While their bright tints are glowing,
Work, for daylight flies.
Work till the last beam fadeth,
Fadeth to shine no more;
Work, while the night is darkening,
When man’s work is o’er.

Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found;
Was blind, but now I see.

’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed!

Through many dangers, toils and snares,
I have already come;
’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me,
His Word my hope secures;
He will my Shield and Portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,
The sun forbear to shine;
But God, who called me here below,
Will be forever mine.

When we’ve been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise
Than when we’d first begun.

Lord, I was blind: I could not see
In Thy marred visage any grace;
But now the beauty of Thy face
In radiant vision dawns on me.

Lord, I was deaf: I could not hear
The thrilling music of Thy voice;
But now I hear Thee and rejoice,
And all Thine uttered words are dear.

Lord, I was dumb: I could not speak
The grace and glory of Thy Name;
But now, as touched with living flame,
My lips Thine eager praises wake.

Lord, I was dead: I could not stir
My lifeless soul to come to Thee;
But now, since Thou hast quickened me,
I rise from sin’s dark sepulcher.

Lord, Thou hast made the blind to see,
The deaf to hear, the dumb to speak,
The dead to live; and lo, I break
The chains of my captivity.

Praise God for what He’s done for me!
Once I was blind, but now I see;
I on the brink of ruin fell,
Glory to God! I’m out of hell.

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And above the rest this note shall swell,
This note shall swell, This note shall swell,
And above the rest this note shall swell,
My Jesus has done all things well.

The Lord has pardoned all my sin,
And now to praise Him I’ll begin;
I never praised the Lord before,
But now I’ll praise Him more and more.

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I spurned His grace, I broke His laws,
But Jesus undertook my cause;
Bad as I was, He cleansed my soul,
Healed my disease, and made me whole.

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Praise God for what He’s done for us!
He’s turned our hearts to praise Him thus,
And now He cries, “Go on, go on!
I’ll crown you when your work is done.”

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