“A peculiar people.” Titus 2.14; 1 Pet. 2. 9

W. Gadsby        148th

Peculiar are the saints,
And God does them esteem;
Though numerous are their wants,
They all things have in him;
He is their treasure and their joy,
Nor can they ever starve or die.

[Loved from eternity,
And chosen in the Lamb,
The eternal One-in-Three,
Jehovah, Great I AM,
Himself has bound, by holy ties,
To take them up beyond the skies.]

[Peculiar is the grace,
Which makes their bliss secure;
Its beauties none can trace,
Nor know its saving power;
None but this little favoured few
Can know what endless love can do.]

Bought with the blood of Christ,
(Peculiar price indeed!)
Their God becomes their Priest,
And they from sin are freed;
Peculiar must the blessing be,
Which makes insolvent wretches free.

[Their birth is from above;
Peculiar indeed;
Begotten, not of blood,
But of immortal seed;
From Christ, their Head, their life proceeds,
And to him it most surely leads.]

They live, and live to God,
A life that’s known by few;
Their Father’s staff and rod,
Support and comfort too;
Christ is their Life, nor can they die,
For hell can ne’er their life destroy.


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