My Cup Runneth Over J.P.Scholfield

I had traveled down live’s pathway many days – seeking something fear and conscience would destroy: then I anchored to the savior and He changed my ways;

Chorus

My cup runneth over with joy. My cup runneth over with joy, my cup runneth over with joy; Now my soul delights to sing – for I’m walking with my King; my cup runneth over with joy.

Verses 2 & 3

When I heard that Jesus came to resuce me, and had pow’r to still the waves that did annoy; I committed all to Him and He gave victory; my cup runneth over with joy.

Now I’m walking with the Savior every day – and my path is set with jewels not alloy; I am happy as I travel on this upward way; my cup runneth over with joy.

 

His love won my heart J.P. Scholfield

photo (20)I heard a sweet story, I know its true, it took a firm grip on my soul; It told of a Savior who ame to save, and make a broken life whole.

Chorus:

His love won my heart, a love that will never depart; He took sin away, and came in to stay, His love won my heart. I want to be faithful, and loyal and true to the love that won my heart.

Vs. 2 & 3

I yielded myself to this Christ divine, for sin was a burden to me; He lifted that burden and gave me peace and set my captive soul free.

And now I am singing along my way, where once I was burdened and sad; now He is my Shepherd, my Friend and Guide, and keeps my heart ever glad.

‘Neath the Old Olive Trees B.B.Mckinney

old olive tree

‘Neath the starts of the night, walked the Savior of light, In the garden of dew lad-ened breeze, where no light could be found, Jesus knelt on the ground, There He prayed ‘neath the old olive trees.

Chorus

‘Neath the old olive trees, Neath the old olive trees, Went the Savior alone on His knees, “Not my will, Thine be done,” cried the Father’s own Son, as He knelt ‘neath the old olive tress.

Verses 2 & 3

All the sin of the world on the Savior was hurled, As He knelt in the garden above; Hear His soul-burdened plea, Let this cup pass from Me, “Nev’rtheless, not my will, Thine be done”

May my song ever be, of the love proffered me, By my Lord all alone on His knees: praise His wonderful name, He who bore all my blame, As He knelt neath the old olive trees.