Joy Is a Fruit That Will Not Grow

I must say the title of this hymn caught my attention as I was browsing through cyberhymnal for VBS song ideas. I couldn't help taking a peek at the rest of the lyrics. The words are challenging. Truly, all we have until Christ is our life, is vanity and toil.

Words by John Newton

Joy is a fruit that will not grow In nature’s barren soil; All we can boast, till Christ we know, Is vanity and toil.

But where the Lord has planted grace; And made His glories known; There fruits of heavenly joy and peace Are found, and there alone.

A bleeding Savior seen by faith, A sense of pard’ning love; A hope that triumphs over death, Give joys like those above.

To take a glimpse within the veil, To know that God is mine; Are springs of joy that never fail, Unspeakably divine!

These are the joys which satisfy, And sanctify the mind; Which make the spirit mount on high, And leave the world behind.

No more, believers, mourn your lot, But if you are the Lord’s; Resign to them that know Him not, Such joys as earth affords.

Lilly of the Valley

I have found a friend in Jesus, he's everything to me,

he's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul; the Lily of the Valley,in him alone I see all I need to cleanse and make me fully whole. In sorrow he's my comfort, in trouble he's my stay, he tells me every care on him to roll.

He's the Lily of the Valley, the bright and Morning Star, he's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul.

He all my grief has taken, and all my sorrows borne; in temptation he's my strong and mighty tower; I have all for him forsaken, and all my idols torn from my heart, and now he keeps me by his power. Though all the world forsake me, and Satan tempts me sore, through Jesus I shall safely reach the goal. He's the Lily of the Valley, the bright and Morning Star, he's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul. He will never, never leave me, nor yet forsake me here, while I live by faith and do his blessed will; a wall of fire about me, I've nothing now to fear, with his manna he my hungry soul shall fill. Then sweeping up to glory, to see his blessed face, where rivers of delight shall ever roll. He's the Lily of the Valley, the bright and Morning Star, he's the fairest of ten thousand to my soul.