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O, let us exalt our dear Lord and proclaim,
In songs of true gratitude, praise to His name!
As songs of the angels in sweetest accord,
Our thanks and our praises shall rise to the Lord.
-- Zion's Harp # 165

Author Bio Information

Elliott, Charlotte's bio information

Wednesday, March 18, 1789 - Friday, September 22, 1871

Born: March 18, 1789, Clapham, Surrey, England.
Died: September 22, 1871, Brighton, East Sussex, England.
Buried: St. Andrew’s Church, Hove, Sussex, England.

Elliott became an invalid around age 30, and remained so for the rest of her life. About her physical condition, Elliott wrote:

My Heavenly Father knows, and He alone, what it is, day after day,
and hour after hour, to fight against bodily feelings of almost
overpowering weakness and languor and exhaustion, to resolve,
as He enables me to do, not to yield to the slothfulness, the
depression, the irritability, such as a body causes me to long
to indulge, but to rise every morning determined on taking this
for my motto, “If any man will come after me, let him deny himself,
take up his cross daily, and follow me.”

Elliott lived in Brighton, England, and for some 40 years, had an ongoing “spiritual” correspondence with Henri Malan. She wrote about 150 hymns, and her works include:

The Invalid’s Hymn Book, 1834
Psalms and Hymns for Public, Private, and Social Worship, 1835-48;
edited by her brother Henry
Hours of Sorrow, 1836
Hymns for a Week, 1839
Thoughts in Verse on Sacred Subjects, 1869


As the New Moons of Old Were Given
Christian! Seek Not Yet Repose
Clouds and Darkness Round About Thee
Dawn Approaches, Golden Streaks, The
Father, When Thy Child Is Dying
Glorious Was That Primal Light
Guard Well Thy Lips
Hail, Holy Day, Most Blest, Most Dear
I Need No Other Plea
I Need No Prayers to Saints
I Want That Adorning Divine
Jesus, My Savior, Look on Me
Just as I Am
Leaning on Thee, My Guide, My Friend
My God, Is Any Hour So Sweet
My God and Father, While I Stray
My Only Savior, When I Feel
Not Willingly Dost Thou Afflict
Now Let Our Heavenly Plants and Flowers
O Faint and Feeble Hearted
O God, May I Look Up to Thee
O Holy Savior, Friend Unseen
O How I Long to Reach My Home
O Thou, the Contrite Sinner’s Friend
Sabbath Day Has Reached Its Close, The
There Is a Holy Sacrifice
There Is a Spot of Consecrated Ground
This Is Enough; Although ’Twere Sweet
This Is the Day to Tune with Care
This Is the Mount Where Christ’s Disciples See
With Tearful Eyes I Look Around


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