Richard Baxter

Hell is paved with infants' skulls.

Hell is paved with infants' skulls.

Ye holy angels bright, Who wait at God's right hand, Or through the realms of light Fly at your Lord's read more

Ye holy angels bright, Who wait at God's right hand, Or through the realms of light Fly at your Lord's command, Assist our song; For else the theme Too high doth seem For mortal tongue. Ye blessed souls at rest, Who ran this earthly race, And now, from sin released, Behold the Saviour's face, God's praises sound, As in his sight, With sweet delight, Ye do abound. Ye saints, who toil below, Adore your heavenly King. And onward as ye go Some joyful anthem sing; Take what he gives And praise him still, Through good or ill, Who ever lives! My soul, bear thou thy part, Triumph in God above: And with a well-tuned heart Sing thou the songs of love! Let all thy days Till life shall end, Whate'er he send, Be filled with praise.

Commemoration of Richard Baxter, Priest, Hymnographer, Teacher, 1691 I apprehended it a Matter of great Necessity to imprint read more

Commemoration of Richard Baxter, Priest, Hymnographer, Teacher, 1691 I apprehended it a Matter of great Necessity to imprint true catholicism on the Minds of Christians, it being a most lamentable thing to observe how few Christians in the World there be, that fall not into one Sect or another .... And if they can but get to be of a Sect which they think the holiest (as the Anabaptists and the Separatists), or which is the largest (as the Greeks and the Romans), they think then that they are sufficiently warranted to deny others to be God's Church, or at least to deny them Christian love and communion.

Commemoration of Richard Baxter, Priest, Hymnographer, Teacher, 1691 Lord, it belongs not to my care, Whether I die or read more

Commemoration of Richard Baxter, Priest, Hymnographer, Teacher, 1691 Lord, it belongs not to my care, Whether I die or live; To love and serve Thee is my share, And this Thy grace must give. If life be long I will be glad, That I may long obey; If short--yet why should I be sad To soar to endless day? Christ leads me through no darker rooms Than He went through before; He that unto God's kingdom comes, Must enter by this door. Come, Lord, when grace has made me meet Thy blessed face to see; For if Thy work on earth be sweet, What will Thy glory be! Then shall I end my sad complaints, And weary, sinful days; And join with the triumphant saints, To sing Jehovah's praise. My knowledge of that life is small, The eye of faith is dim; But 'tis enough that Christ knows all, And I shall be with him.

I preached as never sure to preach again,
And as a dying man to dying men.

I preached as never sure to preach again,
And as a dying man to dying men.