Behold the Lord upon His throne;
His face is shining like the sun.
With eyes blazing fire, and feet glowing bronze,
His voice like mighty water roars.
Holy, holy, Lord God Almighty.
Holy, holy, we stand in awe of You.

The First, the Last, the living One
Laid down His life for all the world;
Behold He now lives for evermore,
And holds the keys of death and hell.
Holy, holy, Lord God Almighty.
Holy, holy, we bow before Your throne.

So let our praises ever ring
To Jesus Christ, our glorious King.
All heaven and earth resound as we cry:
'Worthy is the Son of God!'
Holy, holy, Lord God Almighty.
Holy, holy, we fall down at Your feet.

Noel Richards and Gerald Coates
Copyright © 1991 Thankyou Music

Above the clash of creeds,
The many voices
That call on so many names,
Into these final days
Our God has spoken
By sending his only Son.

There is no other way
By which we must be saved;
His name is Jesus,
The only Saviour;
No other sinless life,
No other sacrifice,
In all creation no other way.

Before we called He came
To earth from heaven,
Our maker became a man;
When no one else could pay
He bought our freedom,
Exchanging His life for ours.

There is no other way
By which we must be saved;
His name is Jesus,
The only Saviour;
No other sinless life,
No other sacrifice,
In all creation no other way.

Beneath the cross of Christ
Let earth fall silent
In awe of this mystery,
Then let this song arise
And fill the nations:
O hear Him call, 'come to me.'

There is no other way
By which we must be saved;
His name is Jesus,
The only Saviour;
No other sinless life,
No other sacrifice,
In all creation no other way.
no other way, no other way.

Graham Kendrick
Copyright © 1995 Make Way Music

Almighty God, Thy word is cast
Like seed upon the ground;
O may it grow in humble hearts,
And righteous fruits abound.

Let not the foe of Christ and man
This holy seed remove,
But give it root in praying souls
To bring forth fruits of love.

Let not the world's deceitful cares
The rising plant destroy,
But may it, in converted minds,
Produce the fruits of joy.

Let not Thy word, so kindly sent
To raise us to Thy throne,
Return to Thee, and sadly tell
That we reject Thy Son.

John Cawood (1775-1852)

Come, ye thankful people, come,
Raise the song of harvest-home:
All is safely gathered in
Ere the winter storms begin;
God our Maker doth provide
For our wants to be supplied:
Come to God's own temple, come,
Raise the song of harvest-home.

All the world is God's own field,
Fruit unto His praise to yield;
Wheat and tares together sown,
Unto joy or sorrow grown;
First the blade, and then the ear,
Then the full corn shall appear:
Lord of harvest, grant that we
Wholesome grain and pure may be.

For the Lord our God shall come,
And shall take His harvest home;
From His field shall in that day
All offences purge away;
Give His angels charge at last
In the fire the tares to cast;
But the fruitful ears to store
In His garner evermore.

Even so, Lord, quickly come,
To Thy final harvest-home:
Gather Thou Thy people in,
Free from sorrow, free from sin;
There, for ever purified,
In Thy presence to abide:
Come, with all Thine angels come,
Raise the glorious harvest-home.

Henry Alford (1810-71)