Order of Worship

Call to Worship

My Savior’s Love by Charles H. Gabriel

All Glory Be to Christ by Dustin Kensrue

Corporate Confession / Pastoral Prayer

How Deep the Father's Love for Us by Keith Getty and Stuart Townend

Corporate Giving

Dear Refuge of My Weary Soul by Anne Steele

Sermon Acts 25:1-12

Hymn of the Month: He Leadeth Me (Hymn #461) by Joseph H. Gilmore



My Savior’s Love

I stand amazed in the presence

Of Jesus the Nazarene,

And wonder how He could love me,

A sinner, condemned, unclean.



How marvelous! How wonderful!

And my song shall ever be:

How marvelous! How wonderful!

Is my Savior’s love for me!


For me it was in the garden

He prayed, “Not My will, but Thine,”;

He had no tears for His own griefs,

But sweat-drops of blood for mine.



In pity angels beheld Him,

And came from the world of light

To comfort Him in the sorrows

He bore for my soul that night.



He took my sins and my sorrows,

He made them His very own;

He bore the burden to Calv’ry,

And suffered and died alone.



When with the ransomed in glory

His face I at last shall see,

’Twill be my joy through the ages

To sing of His love for me.




All Glory Be to Christ

Should nothing of our efforts stand,

No legacy survive;

Unless the Lord does raise the house

In vain its builders strive.


To you who boast tomorrow's gain

Tell me, what is your life?

A mist that vanishes at dawn

All glory be to Christ!



All glory be to Christ our King!

All glory be to Christ!

His rule and reign we'll ever sing;

All glory be to Christ!


His will be done, His Kingdom come,

On earth as is above

Who is Himself our daily bread,

Praise Him, the Lord of love!


Let living water satisfy

The thirsty without price;

We'll take a cup of kindness, yet,

All glory be to Christ!



When on the day the great I Am,

The Faithful and the True;

The Lamb who was for sinners slain

Is making all things new!


Behold our God shall live with us

And be our steadfast Light

And we shall e'er his people be,

All glory be to Christ!



How Deep the Father's Love for Us

How deep the Father's love for us, how vast beyond all measure;

That He would give His only Son to make a wretch His treasure.

How great the pain of searing loss, the Father turns His face away;

As wounds which mar the Chosen One bring many sons to glory


Behold the Man upon the cross, my sin upon His shoulders;

Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice call out among the scoffers

It was my sin that held Him there until it was accomplished;

His dying breath has brought me life—I know that it is finished!


I will not boast in anything—no gifts no power nor wisdom

But I will boast in Jesus Christ, His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward?  His glory is the answer!

And this I know with all my heart; His wounds have paid my ransom.



Dear Refuge of My Weary Soul 

Dear refuge of my weary soul, on Thee, when sorrows rise;     

On Thee, when waves of trouble roll, my fainting hope relies.    

To Thee I tell each rising grief, for Thou alone canst heal;  

Thy Word can bring a sweet relief for every pain I feel.


But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail, I fear to call Thee mine;

The springs of comfort seem to fail and all my hopes decline.

Yet gracious God, where shall I flee? Thou art my only trust;

And still my soul would cleave to Thee Though prostrate in the dust.


Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face, and shall I seek in vain?

And can the ear of sovereign grace be deaf when I complain?

No, still the ear of sovereign grace attends the mourner’s prayer.

Oh, may I ever find access to breathe my sorrows there.


Thy mercy seat is open still; here let my soul retreat!

With humble hope attend Thy will, and wait beneath Thy feet.

Thy mercy seat is open still, here let my soul retreat,

With humble hope attend Thy will, and wait beneath Thy feet.



He Leadeth Me

He leadeth me, O blessed thought!

O words with heav’nly comfort fraught!

Whate’er I do, where’er I be

Still ’tis God’s hand that leadeth me.



He leadeth me, He leadeth me,

By His own hand He leadeth me;

His faithful foll’wer I would be,

For by His hand He leadeth me.


Lord, I would clasp Thy hand in mine,

Nor ever murmur nor repine;

Content, whatever lot I see,

Since ‘tis Thy hand that leadeth me!


And when my task on earth is done,

When by Thy grace the vict’ry’s won,

E’en death’s cold wave I will not flee,

Since God through Jordan leadeth me.