Scripture Verse

If anyone is ashamed of Me and My words…the Son of Man will be ashamed of Him when He comes in His Father’s glory. Mark 8:38

Introduction

portrait
Henry K. Oliver (1800–1885)

Words: Jo­seph Grigg, in Four Hymns on Di­vine Sub­jects, 1765, alt.

Music: Fe­de­ral Street Hen­ry K. Ol­iv­er, 1832 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tunes:

If you know where to get a good pic­ture of Grigg (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),

Lyrics

Jesus, and shall it ev­er be,
A mor­tal man, ashamed of Thee?
Ashamed of Thee, whom an­gels praise,
Whose glo­ries shine through end­less days?

Ashamed of Je­sus! soon­er far
Let night dis­own each ra­di­ant star!
’Tis mid­night with my soul, till He,
Bright morn­ing star, bid dark­ness flee.

Ashamed of Je­sus! O as soon
Let morn­ing blush to own the sun!
He sheds the beams of light di­vine
O’er this be­night­ed soul of mine.

Ashamed of Je­sus! that dear friend
On whom my hopes of Heav’n de­pend!
No; when I blush, be this my shame,
That I no more re­vere His name.

Ashamed of Je­sus! yes, I may
When I’ve no guilt to wash away;
No tear to wipe, no good to crave,
No fears to quell, no soul to save.

Ashamed of Je­sus! emp­ty pride!
I’ll boast a Sav­ior cru­ci­fied,
And O may this my por­tion be,
My Sav­ior not ashamed of me!

Grigg’s original version:

Jesus! and shall it ev­er be!
A mor­tal man ashamed of Thee?
Scorned be the thought by rich and poor;
O may I scorn it more and more!

Ashamed of Je­sus! soon­er far
Let ev­en­ing blush to own a star.
Ashamed of Je­sus! just as soon
Let mid­night blush to think of noon.

’Tis ev­en­ing with my soul till He,
That Morn­ing Star, bids dark­ness flee;
He sheds the beam of noon di­vine
O’er all this mid­night soul of mine.

Ashamed of Je­sus! shall yon field
Blush when it think who bids it yield?
Yet blush I must, while I adore,
I blush to think I yield no more.

Ashamed of Je­sus! of that Friend
On whom for hea­ven my hopes de­pend!
It must not be! be this my shame,
That I no more re­vere His name.

Ashamed of Je­sus! yes, I may,
When I’ve no crimes to wash away;
No tear to wipe, no joy to crave,
No fears to quell, no soul to save.

Till then (nor is the boast­ing vain),
Till then I boast a Sav­iour slain:
And, oh, may this my por­tion be,
That Sav­iour not ashamed of me!