Psalm 90
Man mortal, and God eternal
A mournful song at a funeral.
Through every age, eternal God,
Thou art our rest, our safe abode;
High was thy throne ere heav'n was made,
Or earth thy humble footstool laid.
Long hadst thou reigned ere time began,
Or dust was fashioned to a man;
And long thy kingdom shall endure
When earth and time shall be no more.
But man, weak man, is born to die,
Made up of guilt and vanity;
Thy dreadful sentence, Lord, was just,
"Return, ye sinners, to your dust."
[A thousand of our years amount
Scarce to a day in thine account;
Like yesterday's departed light,
Or the last watch of ending night.
PAUSE.
Death, like an overflowing stream,
Sweeps us away; our life's a dream,
An empty tale, a morning flower,
Cut down and withered in an hour.]
[Our age to seventy years is set;
How short the time! how frail the state!
And if to eighty we arrive,
We rather sigh and groan than live.
But O how oft thy wrath appears,
And cuts off our expected years!
Thy wrath awakes our humble dread;
We fear the power that strikes us dead.]
Teach us, O Lord, how frail is man;
And kindly lengthen out our span,
Till a wise care of piety
Fit us to die, and dwell with thee.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm XC
O God, the everlasting One,
In Thee alone, from sire to son,
Through generations all, our race
Hath found a sure abiding place.
Before the mountains rose from earth,
Before the world itself had birth,
Ere yet the heav'ns were spread abroad,
Thou wast and art eternal God.
But man, the creature of Thy breath,
Thou humblest to the deeps of death;
Few days and sad thou giv'st and then
“Return,” Thou say'st, “ye sons of men.”
For, lo, the space of thousand years
To Thine unchanging eye appears
As yesterday to mortal sight,
When passed, or as a watch of night.
As comes a flood on those who sleep,
So over man Thy wrath doth sweep.
As fades the freshness of the grass,
So swiftly doth his vigour pass.
As grass at morn he flourisheth;
Cut down, at eve he lies in death;
Like flame Thy wrath against us burns,
And all our life to anguish turns.
Thou our iniquities hast set
Before Thy face, unpardon'd yet;
Our secret sins, in darkness done,
Thy light reveals them ev'ry one.
And all our days beneath the blast
Of Thy consuming wrath are past;
Our barren lives from year to year
Ev'n as an idle tale appear.
In seventy years our race is run,
And what if here and there an one,
Through greater strength four-score attains
He only added sorrow gains.
And soon the longest life is o'er,
We pass away and are no more.
Oh, who Thine anger can express,
Thine ire is as Thine awfulness.
Lord, teach us so our days to count,
That as we mark their small amount,
Our hearts we may the more apply
To learn Thy wisdom ere we die.
Return, Oh God. How long wilt Thou
Thy grace withhold? Oh, even now,
In mercy hear Thy servant's voice,
That all our days we may rejoice.
According as the days have been
Wherein we have but sorrow seen,
According to our years of ill
Do Thou our lives with gladness fill.
Give Thou to us Thy works to know;
Thy glory to our children show,
And on Thy servants let there rest
The beauty of the Holiest.
To all the work we do on earth
Give Thou, O Lord, enduring worth;
Yea, that our handwork may endure,
Do Thou, Eternal, make it sure.
poem by James Brunton Stephens
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Psalm 90 part 1
v.1-5
C. M.
Man frail, and God eternal.
Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home.
Under the shadow of thy throne
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is thine arm alone,
And our defence is sure.
Before the hills in order stood,
Or earth received her frame,
From everlasting thou art God,
To endless years the same.
Thy word commands our flesh to dust,
"Return, ye sons of men:"
All nations rose from earth at first,
And turn to earth again.
A thousand ages in thy sight
Are like an evening gone;
Short as the watch that ends the night
Before the rising sun.
[The busy tribes of flesh and blood,
With all their lives and cares,
Are carried downwards by the flood,
And lost in following years.
Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the op'ning day.
Like flowery fields the nations stand
Pleased with the morning light;
The flowers beneath the mower's hand
Lie with'ring ere 'tis night.]
Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 89 part 6
v.47ff
L. M.
Mortality and hope. A funeral psalm.
Remember, Lord, our mortal state,
How frail our life! how short the date!
Where is the man that draws his breath
Safe from disease, secure from death'?
Lord, while we see whole nations die,
Our flesh and sense repine and cry,
"Must death for ever rage and reign?
Or hast thou made mankind in vain?
"Where is thy promise to the just?
Are not thy servants turned to dust?"
But faith forbids these mournful sighs,
And sees the sleeping dust arise.
That glorious hour, that dreadful day,
Wipes the reproach of saints away,
And clears the honor of thy word:
Awake, our souls, and bless the Lord.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 82
God far above creatures.
Job 4:17-21.
Shall the vile race of flesh and blood
Contend with their Creator God?
Shall mortal worms presume to be
More holy, wise, or just than he?
Behold, he puts his trust in none
Of all the spirits round his throne:
Their natures, when compared with his,
Are neither holy, just, nor wise.
But how much meaner things are they
Who spring from dust, and dwell in clay!
Touched by the finger of thy wrath,
We faint and vanish like the moth.
From night to day, from day to night,
We die by thousands in thy sight;
Buried in dust whole nations lie
Like a forgotten vanity.
Almighty Power, to thee we bow;
How frail are we, how glorious thou!
No more the sons of earth shall dare
With an eternal God compare.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 89
The covenant made with Christ; or, The true David.
For ever shall my song record
The truth and mercy of the Lord;
Mercy and truth for ever stand,
Like heav'n, established by his hand.
Thus to his Son he sware, and said,
"With thee my cov'nant first is made;
In thee shall dying sinners live,
Glory and grace are thine to give.
"Be thou my Prophet, thou my Priest;
Thy children shall be ever blest;
Thou art my chosen King: thy throne
Shall stand eternal like my own.
"There's none of all my sons above
So much my image or my love;
Celestial powers thy subjects are:
Then what can earth to thee compare?
"David, my servant, whom I chose
To guard my flock, to crush my foes,
And raised him to the Jewish throne,
Was but a shadow of my Son."
Now let the church rejoice and sing
Jesus, her Savior and her King;
Angels his heav'nly wonders show,
And saints declare his works below.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 89 part 4
v.19ff
C. M.
Christ's mediatorial kingdom; or, His Divine and human nature
Hear what the Lord in vision said,
And made his mercy known:
"Sinners, behold your help is laid
On my Almighty Son.
"Behold the Man my wisdom chose
Among your mortal race:
His head my holy oil o'erflows,
The Spirit of my grace.
"High shall he reign on David's throne,
My people's better King;
My arm shall beat his rivals down,
And still new subjects bring.
"My truth shall guard him in his way,
With mercy by his side,
While in my name through earth and sea
He shall in triumph ride.
"Me for his Father and his God
He shall for ever own,
Call me his rock, his high abode,
And I'll support my Son.
"My first-born Son arrayed in grace
At my right hand shall sit;
Beneath him angels know their place,
And monarchs at his feet.
"My cov'nant stands for ever fast,
My promises are strong;
Firm as the heav'ns his throne shall last,
His seed endure as long."
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 90 part 2
v.8-12
C. M.
Infirmities and mortality the effect of sin.
Lord, if thine eye surveys our faults,
And justice grows severe,
Thy dreadful wrath exceeds our thoughts,
And burns beyond our fear.
Thine anger turns our frame to dust;
By one offence to thee
Adam with all his sons have lost
Their immortality.
Life, like a vain amusement, flies,
A fable or a song;
By swift degrees our nature dies,
Nor can our joys be long.
'Tis but a few whose days amount
To threescore years and ten;
And all beyond that short account
Is sorrow, toil, and pain.
[Our vitals with laborious strife
Bear up the crazy load,
And drag those poor remains of life
Along the tiresome road.]
Almighty God, reveal thy love,
And not thy wrath alone;
O let our sweet experience prove
The mercies of thy throne!
Our souls would learn the heav'nly art
T' improve the hours we have,
That we may act the wiser part,
And live beyond the grave.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Dear Savior Of A Dying World
“The Lord is risen.”
Dear Savior of a dying world,
Where grief and change must be,
In the new grave where Thou wast laid
My heart lies down with Thee.
O, not in cold despair of joy,
Or weariness of pain,
But from a hope that shall not die,
To rise and live again.
I would arise in all Thy strength
My place on earth to fill,
To work out all my time of war
With love's unflinchng will.
Firm against every doubt of Thee
For all my future way —
To walk in Heaven's eternal light
Throughout the changing day.
Ah, such a day as Thou shalt own
When suns have ceased to shine
A day of burdens borne by Thee,
And work that all was Thine.
Speed Thy bright rising in my heart,
Thy righteous kingdom speed, —
Till my whole life in concord say,
“The Lord is risen indeed.”
O for an impulse from Thy love
With every coming breath,
To sing that sweet undying song
Amid the wrecks of death!
A “hail!” to every mortal pang
That bids me take my right
To glory in the blessed life
Which Thou hast brought to light.
I long to see the hallowed earth
In new creation rise,
To find the germs of Eden hid
Where its fallen beauty lies, —
To feel the spring–tide of a soul
By one deep love set free,
Made meet to lay aside her dust
And be at home with Thee.
And then — there shall be yet an end —
An end now full to bless!
How dear to those who watch for Thee
With human tenderness.
Then shall the saying come to pass
That makes our hope complete,
And, rising from the conquered grave,
Thy parted ones shall meet.
Yes — they shall meet, and face to face
By heart to heart be known,
Clothed with Thy Likeness, Lord of Life,
And perfect in their own.
For this corruptible must rise
From its corruption free,
And this frail mortal must put on
Thine immortality.
Shine then, Thou Resurrection Light,
Upon our sorrows shine!
The fulness of Thy joy be ours,
As all our griefs were Thine.
Now in this changing, dying life
Our faded hopes restore,
Till, in Thy triumph perfected,
We taste of death no more.
poem by Anna Laetitia Waring
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Psalm II: Why Did the Nations
Why did the nations join to slay
The Lord's anointed Son?
Why did they cast His laws away
And tread His gospel down?
The Lord, that sits above the skies,
Derides their rage below;
He speaks with vengeance in His eyes
And strikes their spirits through.
"I call Him My Eternal Son,
And raise Him from the dead;
I make My holy hill His throne,
And wide His Kingdom spread."
"Ask me, My Son, and then enjoy
The utmost heathen lands:
Thy rod of iron shall destroy
The rebel that withstands."
Be wise, ye rulers of the earth,
Obey the anointed Lord,
Adore the King of Heav'nly birth,
And tremble at His word.
With humble love address his throne;
For if He frown, you die:
Those are secure, and those alone,
Who on His grace rely.
poem by Isaac Watts
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The Three Enemies
THE FLESH
"Sweet, thou art pale."
"More pale to see,
Christ hung upon the cruel tree
And bore His Father's wrath for me."
"Sweet, thou art sad."
"Beneath a rod
More heavy, Christ for my sake trod
The winepress of the wrath of God."
"Sweet, thou art weary."
"Not so Christ:
Whose mighty love of me suffic'd
For Strength, Salvation, Eucharist."
"Sweet, thou art footsore."
"If I bleed,
His feet have bled; yea in my need
His Heart once bled for mine indeed."
THE WORLD
"Sweet, thou art young."
"So He was young
Who for my sake in silence hung
Upon the Cross with Passion wrung."
"Look, thou art fair."
"He was more fair
Than men, Who deign'd for me to wear
A visage marr'd beyond compare."
"And thou hast riches."
"Daily bread:
All else is His: Who, living, dead,
For me lack'd where to lay His Head."
"And life is sweet."
"It was not so
To Him, Whose Cup did overflow
With mine unutterable woe."
THE DEVIL
"Thou drinkest deep."
"When Christ would sup
He drain'd the dregs from out my cup:
So how should I be lifted up?"
"Thou shalt win Glory."
"In the skies,
Lord Jesus, cover up mine eyes
Lest they should look on vanities."
"Thou shalt have Knowledge."
"Helpless dust!
In Thee, O Lord, I put my trust:
Answer Thou for me, Wise and Just."
"And Might."--
"Get thee behind me. Lord,
Who hast redeem'd and not abhorr'd
My soul, oh keep it by Thy Word."
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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A Prayer in Time of War
The war will change many things in art and life, and among them, it is to be hoped, many of our own ideas as to what is, and what is not, "intellectual."
Thou, whose deep ways are in the sea,
Whose footsteps are not known,
To-night a world that turned from Thee
Is waiting -- at Thy Throne.
The towering Babels that we raised
Where scoffing sophists brawl,
The little Antichrists we praised --
The night is on them all.
The fool hath said . . . The fool hath said . ..
And we, who deemed him wise,
We who believed that Thou wast dead,
How should we seek Thine eyes?
How should we seek to Thee for power
Who scorned Thee yesterday?
How should we kneel, in this dread hour?
Lord, teach us how to pray!
Grant us the single heart, once more,
That mocks no sacred thing,
The Sword of Truth our fathers wore
When Thou wast Lord and King.
Let darkness unto darkness tell
Our deep unspoken prayer,
For, while our souls in darkness dwell,
We know that Thou art there.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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Psalm 115
The true God our refuge; or, Idolatry reproved.
Not to ourselves, who are but dust,
Not to ourselves is glory due,
Eternal God, thou only just,
Thou only gracious, wise, and true.
Shine forth in all thy dreadful name;
Why should a heathen's haughty tongue
Insult us, and, to raise our shame,
Say, "Where's the God you've served so long?"
The God we serve maintains his throne
Above the clouds, beyond the skies;
Through all the earth his will is done;
He knows our groans, he hears our cries.
But the vain idols they adore
Are senseless shapes of stone and wood;
At best a mass of glitt'ring ore,
A silver saint or golden god.
[With eyes and ears they carve their head;
Deaf are their ears, their eyes are blind;
In vain are costly off'rings made,
And vows are scattered in the wind.
Their feet were never made to move,
Nor hands to save when mortals pray;
Mortals that pay them fear or love
Seem to be blind and deaf as they.]
O Isr'el! make the Lord thy hope,
Thy help, thy refuge, and thy rest;
The Lord shall build thy ruins up,
And bless the people and the priest.
The dead no more can speak thy praise,
They dwell in silence and the grave;
But we shall live to sing thy grace,
And tell the world thy power to save.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 116 part 1
Recovery from sickness.
I love the Lord; he heard my cries,
And pitied every groan;
Long as I live, when troubles rise,
I'll hasten to his throne.
I love the Lord; he bowed his ear,
And chased my griefs away;
O let my heart no more despair,
While I have breath to pray!
My flesh declined, my spirits fell,
And I drew near the dead;
While inward pangs and fears of hell
Perplexed my wakeful head.
"My God," I cried, "thy servant save,
"Thou ever good and just;
Thy power can rescue from the grave,
Thy power is all my trust."
The Lord beheld me sore distressed,
He bid my pains remove
Return, my soul, to God thy rest,
For thou hast known his love.
My God hath saved my soul from death,
And dried my falling tears;
Now to his praise I'll spend my breath,
And my remaining years.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 87
God dwells with the humble and penitent.
Isa. 47:15,16.
Thus saith the high and lofty One:
"I sit upon my holy throne;
My name is God, I dwell on high,
Dwell in my own eternity.
"But I descend to worlds below,
On earth I have a mansion too;
The humble spirit and contrite
Is an abode of my delight.
"The humble soul my words revive,
I bid the mourning sinner live,
Heal all the broken hearts I find,
And ease the sorrows of the mind.
["When I contend against their sin,
I make them know how vile they've been;
But should my wrath for ever smoke,
Their souls would sink beneath my stroke."]
O may thy pard'ning grace be nigh,
Lest we should faint, despair, and die!
Thus shall our better thoughts approve
The methods of thy chast'ning love.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 25
A vision of the Lamb.
Rev. 5:6-9.
All mortal vanities, begone,
Nor tempt my eyes, nor tire my ears;
Behold, amidst th' eternal throne,
A vision of the Lamb appears.
[Glory his fleecy robe adorns,
Marked with the bloody death he bore;
Seven are his eyes, and seven his horns,
To speak his wisdom and his power.
Lo! he receives a sealed book
From him that sits upon the throne;
Jesus, my Lord, prevails to look
On dark decrees and things unknown.]
All the assembling saints around
Fall worshipping before the Lamb,
And in new songs of gospel sound
Address their honors to his name.
[The Joy, the shout, the harmony,
Flies o'er the everlasting hills
"Worthy art thou alone," they cry,
To read the book, to loose the seals."]
Our voices join the heav'nly strain,
And with transporting pleasure sing,
"Worthy the Lamb that once was slain,
To be our Teacher and our King!"
His words of prophecy reveal
Eternal counsels, deep designs;
His grace and vengeance shall fulfil
The peaceful and the dreadful lines.
Thou hast redeemed our souls from hell
With thine invaluable blood;
And wretches that did once rebel
Are now made fav'rites of their God.
Worthy for ever is the Lord,
That died for treasons not his own,
By every tongue to be adored,
And dwell upon his Father's throne!
poem by Isaac Watts
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The Immortal Part
When I meet the morning beam,
Or lay me down at night to dream,
I hear my bones within me say,
"Another night, another day.
"When shall this slough of sense be cast,
This dust of thoughts be laid at last,
The man of flesh and soul be slain
And the man of bone remain?
"This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout,
These thews that hustle us about,
This brain that fills the skull with schemes,
And its humming hive of dreams,--
"These to-day are proud in power
And lord it in their little hour:
The immortal bones obey control
Of dying flesh and dying soul.
"'Tis long till eve and morn are gone:
Slow the endless night comes on,
And late to fulness grows the birth
That shall last as long as earth.
"Wanderers eastward, wanderers west,
Know you why you cannot rest?
'Tis that every mother's son
Travails with a skeleton.
"Lie down in the bed of dust;
Bear the fruit that bear you must;
Bring the eternal seed to light,
And morn is all the same as night.
"Rest you so from trouble sore,
Fear the heat o' the sun no more,
Nor the snowing winter wild,
Now you labour not with child.
"Empty vessel, garment cast,
We that wore you long shall last.
--Another night, another day."
So my bones within me say.
Therefore they shall do my will
To-day while I am master still,
And flesh and soul, now both are strong,
Shall hale the sullen slaves along,
Before this fire of sense decay,
This smoke of thought blow clean away,
And leave with ancient night alone
The stedfast and enduring bone.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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Birth-Day Ode 03
And wouldst thou seek the low abode
Where PEACE delights to dwell?
Pause Traveller on thy way of life!
With many a snare and peril rife
Is that long labyrinth of road:
Dark is the vale of years before
Pause Traveller on thy way!
Nor dare the dangerous path explore
Till old EXPERIENCE comes to lend his leading ray.
Not he who comes with lanthorn light
Shall guide thy groping pace aright
With faltering feet and slow;
No! let him rear the torch on high
And every maze shall meet thine eye,
And every snare and every foe;
Then with steady step and strong,
Traveller, shalt thou march along.
Tho' POWER invite thee to her hall,
Regard not thou her tempting call
Her splendors meteor glare;
Tho' courteous Flattery there await
And Wealth adorn the dome of State,
There stalks the midnight spectre CARE;
PEACE, Traveller! does not sojourn there.
If FAME allure thee, climb not thou
To that steep mountain's craggy brow
Where stands her stately pile;
For far from thence does PEACE abide,
And thou shall find FAME'S favouring smile
Cold as the feeble Sun on Heclas snow-clad side,
And Traveller! as thou hopest to find
That low and loved abode,
Retire thee from the thronging road
And shun the mob of human kind.
Ah I hear how old EXPERIENCE schools,
"Fly fly the crowd of Knaves and Fools
"And thou shalt fly from woe;
"The one thy heedless heart will greet
"With Judas smile, and thou wilt meet
"In every Fool a Foe!"
So safely mayest thou pass from these,
And reach secure the home of PEACE,
And FRIENDSHIP find thee there.
No happier state can mortal know,
No happier lot can Earth bestow
If LOVE thy lot shall share.
Yet still CONTENT with him may dwell
Whom HYMEN will not bless,
And VIRTUE sojourn in the cell
Of HERMIT HAPPINESS.
poem by Robert Southey
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De Profundis
Come let us curse our Master ere we die,
For all our hopes in endless ruin lie.
The good is dead. Let us curse God most High.
Four thousand years of toil and hope and thought
Wherein man laboured upward and still wrought
New worlds and better, Thou hast made as naught.
We built us joyful cities, strong and fair,
Knowledge we sought and gathered wisdom rare.
And all this time you laughed upon our care,
And suddenly the earth grew black with wrong,
Our hope was crushed and silenced was our song,
The heaven grew loud with weeping. Thou art strong.
Come then and curse the Lord. Over the earth
Gross darkness falls, and evil was our birth
And our few happy days of little worth.
Even if it be not all a dream in vain
—The ancient hope that still will rise again—
Of a just God that cares for earthly pain,
Yet far away beyond our labouring night,
He wanders in the depths of endless light,
Singing alone his musics of delight;
Only the far, spent echo of his song
Our dungeons and deep cells can smite along,
And Thou art nearer. Thou art very strong.
O universal strength, I know it well,
It is but froth of folly to rebel;
For thou art Lord and hast the keys of Hell.
Yet I will not bow down to thee nor love thee,
For looking in my own heart I can prove thee,
And know this frail, bruised being is above thee.
Our love, our hope, our thirsting for the right,
Our mercy and long seeking of the light,
Shall we change these for thy relentless might?
Laugh then and slay. Shatter all things of worth,
Heap torment still on torment for thy mirth—
Thou art not Lord while there are Men on earth.
poem by Clive Staples Lewis
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Judgment Day
Judgment Day will soon be here, what do Christians have to fear?
Nothing, for they know The Truth, we shall not see God's Reproof,
The judgment that shall be poured, down on the earth by The Lord,
Christians are upon another path, and will not see the Lord's Wrath.
Believers, will be judged in His Love, at Christ's Bema Seat above,
We too will be judged, for our works, which will have eternal perks,
For all the things done for our Lord, we may receive eternal reward,
But, for all done by selfish desire, those works, will be burnt in fire,
If we do above face any trouble, it shall be hay, wood and stubble,
As all our works, Christ shall define, through the Fire of His design,
All that makes it through the fire, were our works of His pure desire,
As on earth we served Jesus Christ, during our temporal earthly life.
After this, a Supper with The Lamb, up above with The Great "I AM."
Dining with Jesus Christ, our Lord, Who, down here, we've adored,
During that time upon the earth, now in Heaven, through New Birth,
For at the time that we believed, Eternal Life from Him we received.
Through Wrath we need not to cope, as His Judgment is our Hope,
For we'll be taken from this earth, up into Heaven, in our New Birth,
Now perfect, with Christ for all time, all through God's pure design,
To return to former ways, never, but, to reign with The Lord forever.
(Copyright ©09/2012)
By the Earth's Corpse
I
"O Lord, why grievest Thou? -
Since Life has ceased to be
Upon this globe, now cold
As lunar land and sea,
And humankind, and fowl, and fur
Are gone eternally,
All is the same to Thee as ere
They knew mortality."
II
"O Time," replied the Lord,
"Thou read'st me ill, I ween;
Were all THE SAME, I should not grieve
At that late earthly scene,
Now blestly past--though planned by me
With interest close and keen! -
Nay, nay: things now are NOT the same
As they have earlier been.
III
"Written indelibly
On my eternal mind
Are all the wrongs endured
By Earth's poor patient kind,
Which my too oft unconscious hand
Let enter undesigned.
No god can cancel deeds foredone,
Or thy old coils unwind!
IV
"As when, in Noe's days,
I whelmed the plains with sea,
So at this last, when flesh
And herb but fossils be,
And, all extinct, their piteous dust
Revolves obliviously,
That I made Earth, and life, and man,
It still repenteth me!"
poem by Thomas Hardy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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