Psalm 65 part 1
v.1-5
L. M.
Public prayer and praise.
The praise of Zion waits for thee,
My God, and praise becomes thy house;
There shall thy saints thy glory see,
And there perform their public vows.
O thou whose mercy bends the skies
To save when humble sinners pray,
All lands to thee shall lift their eyes,
And islands of the northern sea.
Against my will my sins prevail,
But grace shall purge away their stain;
The blood of Christ will never fail
To wash my garments white again.
Blest is the man whom thou shalt choose,
And give him kind access to thee;
Give him a place within thy house,
To taste thy love divinely free.
PAUSE.
Let Babel fear when Zion prays;
Babel, prepare for long distress,
When Zion's God himself arrays
In terror and in righteousness.
With dreadful glory God fulfils
What his afflicted saints request;
And with almighty wrath reveals
His love, to give his churches rest.
Then shall the flocking nations run
To Zion's hill, and own their Lord;
The rising and the setting sun
Shall see the Savior's name adored.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Related quotes
Praise For Thee, Lord, in Zion Waits
Praise for Thee, Lord, in Zion waits;
Prayer shall besiege Thy temple gates;
All flesh shall to Thy throne repair,
And find through Christ salvation there.
Our spirits faint; our sins prevail;
Leave not our trembling hearts to fail:
O Thou that hearest prayer, descend,
And still be found the sinner’s friend.
How blest Thy saints! how safely led!
How surely kept! how richly fed!
Savior of all in earth and sea,
How happy they who rest in Thee.
Thy hand sets fast the mighty hills,
Thy voice the troubled ocean stills;
Evening and morning hymn Thy praise,
And earthy Thou bounty wide displays.
The year is with Thy goodness crowned;
Thy clouds drop wealth the world around;
Through Thee the deserts laugh and sing,
And nature smiles and owns her King.
Lord, on our souls Thy Spirit pour;
The moral waste within restore;
O let Thy love our springtide be,
And make us all bear fruit to Thee.
poem by Henry Francis Lyte
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Psalm 118 part 2
v.17-21
C. M.
Public praise for deliverance from death.
Lord, thou hast heard thy servant cry
And rescued from the grave;
Now shall he live; and none can die,
If God resolve to save.
Thy praise, more constant than before,
Shall fill his daily breath;
Thy hand, that hath chastised him sore,
Defends him still from death.
Open the gates of Zion now,
For we shall worship there;
The house where all the righteous go
Thy mercy to declare.
Among th' assemblies of thy saints
Our thankful voice we raise;
There we have told thee our complaints,
And there we speak thy praise.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 87
The church the birth-place of the saints.
God in his earthly temple lays
Foundations for his heav'nly praise:
He likes the tents of Jacob well,
But still in Zion loves to dwell.
His mercy visits every house
That pay their night and morning vows;
But makes a more delightful stay
Where churches meet to praise and pray.
What glories were described of old!
What wonders are of Zion told!
Thou city of our God below,
Thy fame shall Tyre and Egypt know.
Egypt and Tyre, and Greek and Jew,
Shall there begin their lives anew;
Angels and men shall join to sing
The hill where living waters spring.
When God makes up his last account
Of natives in his holy mount,
'Twill be an honor to appear
As one new-born or nourished there!
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 106 part 1
v.1-5
L. M.
Praise to God; or, Communion with saints.
To God, the great, the ever-blest,
Let songs of honor be addressed;
His mercy firm for ever stands
Give him the thanks his love demands.
Who knows the wonders of thy ways?
Who shall fulfil thy boundless praise?
Blest are the souls that fear thee still,
And pay their duty to thy will.
Remember what thy mercy did
For Jacob's race, thy chosen seed;
And with the same salvation bless
The meanest suppliant of thy grace.
O may I see thy tribes rejoice,
And aid their triumphs with my voice!
This is my glory, Lord, to be
Joined to thy saints, and near to thee.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Zion, Or The City Of God
Glorious things of thee are spoken,
Zion, city of our God;
He whose word cannot be broken
Formed thee for His own abode.
On the Rock of Ages founded,
What can shake thy sure repose?
With salvation's walls surrounded
Thou may'st smile at all thy foes.
See, the streams of living waters
Springing from eternal love
Well supply thy sons and daughters
And all fear of want remove.
Who can faint while such a river
Ever flows their thirst t'assuage
Grace, which, like the Lord, the Giver,
Never fails from age to age?
Round each habitation hovering,
See the cloud and fire appear,
For a glory and a covering,
Showing that the Lord is near.
Thus they march, the pillar leading,
Light by night and shade by day,
Daily on the manna feeding
Which He gives them when they pray.
Blest inhabitants of Zion,
Washed in the Redeemer's blood!
Jesus, whom their souls rely on,
Makes them kings and priests to God.
'Tis His love His people raises
Over self to reign as kings,
And as priests, His solemn praises
Each for a thank-offering brings.
Savior, if of Zion's city
I through grace a member am,
Let the world deride or pity,
I will glory in Thy name.
Fading is the worldling's pleasure,
All his boasted pomp and show;
Solid joys and lasting treasure
None but Zion's children know.
poem by John Newton
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Psalm CXXXVII The Babylonian Captivity
ALONG the banks where Babel's current flows
Our captive bands in deep despondence stray'd,
While Zion's fall in sad remembrance rose,
Her friends, her children mingled with the dead.
The tuneless harp, that once with joy we strung,
When praise employ'd and mirth inspir'd the lay,
In mournful silence on the willows hung;
And growing grief prolong'd the tedious day.
The barbarous tyrants, to increase the woe,
With taunting smiles a song of Zion claim;
Bid sacred praise in strains melodious flow,
While they blaspheme the great Jehovah's name.
But how, in heathen chains and lands unknown,
Shall Israel's sons a song of Zion raise?
O hapless Salem, God's terrestrial throne,
Thou land of glory, sacred mount of praise.
If e'er my memory lose thy lovely name,
If my cold heart neglect my kindred race,
Let dire destruction seize this guilty frame;
My hand shall perish and my voice shall cease.
Yet shall the Lord, who hears when Zion calls,
O'ertake her foes with terror and dismay,
His arm avenge her desolated walls,
And raise her children to eternal day.
poem by Joel Barlow
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Psalm 9 part 2
v.12
C. M.
The wisdom and equity of Providence.
When the great Judge, supreme and just,
Shall once inquire for blood,
The humble souls that mourn in dust
Shall find a faithful God.
He from the dreadful gates of death
Does his own children raise;
In Zion's gates, with cheerful breath,
They sing their Father's praise.
His foes shall fall, with heedless feet,
Into the pit they made;
And sinners perish in the net
That their own hands had spread.
Thus, by thy judgments, mighty God,
Are thy deep counsels known;
When men of mischief are destroyed,
The snare must be their own.
PAUSE.
The wicked shall sink down to hell;
Thy wrath devour the lands
That dare forget thee, or rebel
Against thy known commands.
Though saints to sore distress are brought,
And wait and long complain,
Their cries shall not be still forgot,
Nor shall their hopes be vain.
[Rise, great Redeemer, from thy seat,
To judge and save the poor;
Let nations tremble at thy feet,
And man prevail no more.
Thy thunder shall affright the proud,
And put their hearts to pain;
Make them confess that thou art God,
And they but feeble men.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 84 part 1
The pleasure of public worship.
How pleasant, how divinely fair,
O Lord of hosts, thy dwellings are!
With long desire my spirit faints
To meet th' assemblies of thy saints.
My flesh would rest in thine abode,
My panting heart cries out for God;
My God! my King! why should I be
So far from all my joys and thee?
The sparrow chooses where to rest,
And for her young provides her nest;
But will my God to sparrows grant
That pleasure which his children want?
Blest are the saints who sit on high
Around thy throne of majesty;
Thy brightest glories shine above,
And all their work is praise and love.
Blest are the souls who find a place
Within the temple of thy grace;
There they behold thy gentler rays,
And seek thy face, and learn thy praise.
Blest are the men whose hearts are set
To find the way to Zion's gate;
God is their strength, and through the road
They lean upon their helper God.
Cheerful they walk with growing strength,
Till all shall meet in heav'n at length,
Till all before thy face appear,
And join in nobler worship there.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 69 part 3
Christ's obedience and death; or, God glorified and sinners saved.
Father, I sing thy wondrous grace,
I bless my Savior's name;
He bought salvation for the poor,
And bore the sinner's shame.
His deep distress has raised us high;
His duty and his zeal
Fulfilled the law which mortals broke,
And finished all thy will.
His dying groans, his living songs,
Shall better please my God
Than harp or trumpet's solemn sound,
Than goat's or bullock's blood.
This shall his humble followers see,
And set their hearts at rest
They by his death draw near to thee,
And live for ever blest.
Let heav'n and all that dwell on high
To God their voices raise,
While lands and seas assist the sky,
And join t' advance the praise.
Zion is thine, most holy God,
Thy Son shall bless her gates;
And glory purchased by his blood
For thy own Isr'el waits.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 149
Praise God, all his saints or, The saints judging the world.
All ye that love the Lord, rejoice,
And let your songs be new;
Amidst the church with cheerful voice
His later wonders show.
The Jews, the people of his grace,
Shall their Redeemer sing;
And Gentile nations join the praise,
While Zion owns her King.
The Lord takes pleasure in the just,
Whom sinners treat with scorn;
The meek that lie despised in dust
Salvation shall adorn.
Saints should be joyful in their King,
E'en on a dying bed;
And like the souls in glory sing;
For God shall raise the dead.
Then his high praise shall fill their tongues
Their hands shall wield the sword;
And vengeance shall attend their songs,
The vengeance of the Lord.
When Christ the judgment-seat ascends,
And bids the world appear,
Thrones are prepared for all his friends
Who humbly loved him here.
Then shall they rule with iron rod
Nations that dared rebel;
And join the sentence of their God
On tyrants doomed to hell.
The royal sinners bound in chains
New triumphs shall afford:
Such honor for the saints remains;
Praise ye, and love the Lord!
poem by Isaac Watts
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Zion
The Doorkeepers of Zion,
They do not always stand
In helmet and whole armour,
With halberds in their hand;
But, being sure of Zion,
And all her mysteries,
They rest awhile in Zion,
Sit down and smile in Zion;
Ay, even jest in Zion;
In Zion, at their ease.
The Gatekeepers of Baal,
They dare not sit or lean,
But fume and fret and posture
And foam and curse between;
For being bound to Baal,
Whose sacrifice is vain,
Their rest is scant with Baal,
They glare and pant for Baal,
They mouth and rant for Baal,
For Baal in their pain!
But we will go to Zion,
By choice and not through dread,
With these our present comrades
And those our present dead;
And, being free of Zion
In both her fellowships,
Sit down and sup in Zion --
Stand up and drink in Zion
Whatever cup in Zion
Is offered to our lips!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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We Sing to Thee, Thou Son of God
We sing to Thee, Thou Son of God,
Fountain of life and grace;
We praise Thee, Son of Man, whose blood
Redeemed our fallen race.
Thee we acknowledge God and Lord,
The Lamb for sinners slain;
Who art by heaven and earth adored,
Worthy o'er both to reign.
To Thee all angels cry aloud,
Through heaven's extended coasts: -
Hail! holy, holy, holy Lord
Of glory and of hosts.
The cherubim and seraphim
Incessant sing to Thee;
The worlds and all the powers therein
Adore Thy majesty.
The prophets' goodly fellowship,
In radiant garments dressed,
Praise Thee, Thou Son of God, and reap
The fulness of Thy rest.
The apostles' glorious company
Thy righteous praise proclaim:
The martyred army glorify
Thine everlasting name.
Through all the world, Thy churches join
To call on Thee their Head,
Brightness of majesty Divine,
Who every power hast made.
Among their number, Lord, we love
To sing Thy precious blood.
Reign here, and in the worlds above,
Thou Holy Lamb of God!
poem by Augustus Montague Toplady
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Psalm 63
Longing after God; or, The love of God better than life.
Great God, indulge my humble claim,
Thou art my hope, my joy, my rest;
The glories that compose thy name
Stand all engaged to make me blest.
Thou great and good, thou just and wise,
Thou art my Father and my God;
And I am thine by sacred ties;
Thy son, thy servant, bought with blood
With heart, and eyes, and lifted hands,
For thee I long, to thee I look,
As travellers in thirsty lands
Pant for the cooling water-brook.
With early feet I love t' appear
Among thy saints, and seek thy face;
Oft have I seen thy glory there,
And felt the power of sovereign grace.
Not fruits nor wines that tempt our taste,
Nor all the joys our senses know,
Could make me so divinely blest,
Or raise my cheerful passions so.
My life itself without thy love
No taste of pleasure could afford;
'Twould but a tiresome burden prove,
If I were banish'd from the Lord.
Amidst the wakeful hours of night,
When busy cares afflict my head,
One thought of thee gives new delight,
And adds refreshment to my bed.
I'll lift my hands, I'll raise my voice,
While I have breath to pray or praise;
This work shall make my heart rejoice,
And spend the remnant of my days.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 86
Thy gracious ear, O Lord, encline,
O hear me I thee pray,
For I am poor, and almost pine
With need, and sad decay.
Preserve my soul, for *I have trod Heb. I am good, loving,
Thy waies, and love the just, a doer of good and
Save thou thy servant O my God holy things
Who still in thee doth trust.
Pity me Lord for daily thee
I call; 4 O make rejoyce
Thy Servants Soul; for Lord to thee
I lift my soul and voice,
For thou art good, thou Lord art prone
To pardon, thou to all
Art full of mercy, thou alone
To them that on thee call.
Unto my supplication Lord
Give ear, and to the crie
Of my incessant praiers afford
Thy hearing graciously.
I in the day of my distress
Will call on thee for aid;
For thou wilt grant me free access
And answer, what I pray'd.
Like thee among the gods is none
O Lord, nor any works
Of all that other Gods have done
Like to thy glorious works.
The Nations all whom thou hast made
Shall come, and all shall frame
To bow them low before thee Lord,
And glorifie thy name.
For great thou art, and wonders great
By thy strong hand are done,
Thou in thy everlasting Seat
Remainest God alone.
Teach me O Lord thy way most right,
I in thy truth will hide,
To fear thy name my heart unite
So shall it never slide.
Thee will I praise O Lord my God
Thee honour, and adore
With my whole heart, and blaze abroad
Thy name for ever more.
For great thy mercy is toward me,
And thou hast free'd my Soul
Eev'n from the lowest Hell set free
From deepest darkness foul.
O God the proud against me rise
And violent men are met
To seek my life, and in their eyes
No fear of thee have set.
But thou Lord art the God most mild
Readiest thy grace to shew,
Slow to be angry, and art stil'd
Most mercifull, most true.
O turn to me thy face at length,
And me have mercy on,
Unto thy servant give thy strength,
And save thy hand-maids Son.
Some sign of good to me afford,
And let my foes then see
And be asham'd, because thou Lord
Do'st help and comfort me.
poem by John Milton
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Psalm 76
Israel saved, and the Assyrians destroyed.
In Judah God of old was known;
His name in Isr'el great;
In Salem stood his holy throne,
And Zion was his seat.
Among the praises of his saints
His dwelling there he chose;
There he received their just complaints
Against their haughty foes.
From Zion went his dreadful word,
And broke the threat'ning spear,
The bow, the arrows, and the sword,
And crushed th' Assyrian war.
What are the earth's wide kingdoms else
But mighty hills of prey?
The hill on which Jehovah dwells
Is glorious more than they.
'Twas Zion's King that stopped the breath
Of captains and their bands;
The men of might slept fast in death,
And never found their hands.
At thy rebuke, O Jacob's God,
Both horse and chariot fell:
Who knows the terrors of thy rod?
Thy vengeance who can tell?
What power can stand before thy sight,
When once thy wrath appears?
When heav'n shines round with dreadful light,
The earth lies still and fears.
When God in his own sovereign ways
Comes down to save th' oppressed,
The wrath of man shall work his praise,
And he'll restrain the rest.
[Vow to the Lord, and tribute bring,
Ye princes, fear his frown;
His terror shakes the proudest king,
And cuts an army down.
The thunder of his sharp rebuke
Our haughty foes shall feel;
For Jacob's God hath not forsook
But dwells in Zion still.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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Lord, with Glowing Heart I'd Praise Thee
Lord, with glowing heart I'd praise Thee,
For the bliss Thy love bestows,
For the pardoning grace that saves me,
And the peace that from it flows:
Help, O God, my weak endeavor;
This dull soul to rapture raise:
Thou must light the flame, or never
Can my love be warmed to praise.
Praise, my soul, the God that sought thee,
Wretched wanderer, far astray;
Found thee lost, and kindly brought thee
From the paths of death away;
Praise, with love's devoutest feeling,
Him Who saw thy guilt-born fear,
And the light of hope revealing,
Bade the blood-stained cross appear.
Praise thy Savior God that drew thee
To that cross, new life to give,
Held a blood sealed pardon to thee,
Bade thee look to Him and live.
Praise the grace whose threats alarmed thee,
Roused thee from thy fatal ease;
Praise the grace whose promise warmed thee,
Praise the grace that whispered peace.
Lord, this bosom's ardent feeling
Vainly would my lips express.
Low before Thy footstool kneeling,
Deign Thy suppliant's prayer to bless:
Let Thy grace, my soul's chief treasure,
Love's pure flame within me raise;
And, since words can never measure,
Let my life show forth Thy praise.
poem by Francis Scott Key
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Psalm 99 part 1
Christ's kingdom and majesty.
The God Jehovah reigns!
Let all the nations fear;
Let sinners tremble at his throne,
And saints be humble there.
Jesus the Savior reigns!
Let earth adore its Lord;
Bright cherubs his attendants stand,
Swift to fulfil his word.
In Zion is his throne,
His honors are Divine;
His church shall make his wonders known,
For there his glories shine.
How holy is his name!
How terrible his praise!
Justice, and truth, and judgment join
In all his works of grace.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 102 part 2
v.13-21
C. M.
Prayer heard, and Zion restored.
Let Zion and her sons rejoice,
Behold the promised hour;
Her God hath heard her mourning voice,
And comes t' exalt his power.
Her dust and ruins that remain
Are precious in our eyes;
Those ruins shall be built again,
And all that dust shall rise.
The Lord will raise Jerusalem
And stand in glory there;
Nations shall bow before his name,
And kings attend with fear.
He sits a sovereign on his throne,
With pity in his eyes;
He hears the dying pris'ners' groan,
And sees their sighs arise.
He frees the souls condemned to death,
And when his saints complain,
It shan't be said, "That praying breath
Was ever spent in vain."
This shall be known when we are dead,
And left on long record;
That ages yet unborn may read,
And trust, and praise the Lord.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Lord, I give you all my praise. (To the tune of down at the cross)
O Lord, My God, I give you all my praise
You have cared for me all my days
You have comfort and strengthen me
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes, God has been good to me.
God has been so good to me.
Yes, God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
O’ Lord, My God, to you I lift my hand
You will bless me right where I stand
You will guide me along the way
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes, God has been good to me.
God has been so good to me.
Yes God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
O Lord My God to you I sing my praise
I surrender and beg for your grace
Please O’ Lord, forgive all my sins.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes, God has been good to me.
God has been so good to me.
Yes God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
O Lord, my God I need your help today
Please send some aid quickly my way
Problems are so bad I can hardly pray
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes, God has been good to me.
God has been so good to me.
Yes, God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
O Lord, My God, thanks for all you have done
You have empowered me to overcome
Now, I can claim my battle as won
Lord, I give you all my praise.
Yes God has been good to me.
God has been so good me.
Yes God has been good to me.
Lord, I give you all my praise.
poem by Reginald Walker
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Deliverance from Another Sore Fit
In my distress I sought the Lord
When naught on earth could comfort give,
And when my soul these things abhorred,
Then, Lord, Thou said'st unto me, "Live."
Thou knowest the sorrows that I felt;
My plaints and groans were heard of Thee,
And how in sweat I seemed to melt
Thou help'st and Thou regardest me.
My wasted flesh Thou didst restore,
My feeble loins didst gird with strength,
Yea, when I was most low and poor,
I said I shall praise Thee at length.
What shall I render to my God
For all His bounty showed to me?
Even for His mercies in His rod,
Where pity most of all I see.
My heart I wholly give to Thee;
O make it fruitful, faithful Lord.
My life shall dedicated be
To praise in thought, in deed, in word.
Thou know'st no life I did require
Longer than still Thy name to praise,
Nor ought on earth worthy desire,
In drawing out these wretched days.
Thy name and praise to celebrate,
O Lord, for aye is my request.
O grant I do it in this state,
And then with Thee, which is the best.
poem by Anne Bradstreet
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