Psalm 89 part 3
v.15ff
C. M.
A blessed gospel.
Blest are the souls that hear and know
The gospel's joyful sound;
Peace shall attend the path they go,
And light their steps surround.
Their joy shall bear their spirits up
Through their Redeemer's name;
His righteousness exalts their hope,
Nor Satan dares condemn.
The Lord, our glory and defence,
Strength and salvation gives;
Isr'el, thy King for ever reigns,
Thy God for ever lives.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 144 part 2
v.3-6
C. M.
The vanity of man and condescension of God.
Lord, what is man, poor feeble man,
Born of the earth at first?
His life a shadow, light and vain,
Still hasting to the dust.
O what is feeble, dying man,
Or any of his race,
That God should make it his concern
To visit him with grace?
That God who darts his lightnings down,
Who shakes the worlds above,
And mountains tremble at his frown,
How wondrous is his love!
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 150
v.1,2,6
C. M.
A song of praise.
In God's own house pronounce his praise,
His grace he there reveals;
To heav'n your joy and wonder raise,
For there his glory dwells.
Let all your sacred passions move,
While you rehearse his deeds;
But the great work of saving love
Your highest praise exceeds.
All that have motion, life, and breath,
Proclaim your Maker blest;
Yet, when my voice expires in death,
My soul shall praise him best.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 144 part 1
v.1,2
C. M.
Assistance and victory in the spiritual warfare.
For ever blessed be the Lord,
My Savior and my shield;
He sends his Spirit with his word,
To arm me for the field.
When sin and hell their force unite,
He makes my soul his care,
Instructs me to the heav'nly fight,
And guards me through the war.
A friend and helper so divine
Does my weak courage raise;
He makes the glorious vict'ry mine,
And his shall be the praise.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 18
Blessed are the dead that die in the Lord.
Rev. 14:13.
Hear what the voice from heav'n proclaims,
For all the pious dead;
Sweet is the savor of their names,
And soft their sleeping bed.
They die in Jesus, and are blest;
How kind their slumbers are!
From suff'rings and from sins released,
And freed from every snare.
Far from this world of toil and strife,
They're present with the Lord;
The labors of their mortal life
End in a large reward.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 101
Joy in heaven for a repenting sinner.
Luke 15:7,10.
Who can describe the joys that rise
Through all the courts of Paradise,
To see a prodigal return,
To see an heir of glory born?
With joy the Father doth approve
The fruit of his eternal love;
The Son with joy looks down and sees
The purchase of his agonies.
The Spirit takes delight to view
The holy soul he formed anew;
And saints and angels join to sing,
The growing empire of their King.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 97 part 2
v.6-9
L. M.
Christ's incarnation.
The Lord is come; the heav'ns proclaim
His birth; the nations learn his name;
An unknown star directs the road
Of eastern sages to their God.
All ye bright armies of the skies,
Go, worship where the Savior lies;
Angels and kings before him bow,
Those gods on high and gods below.
Let idols totter to the ground,
And their own worshippers confound
But Judah shout, but Zion sing,
And earth confess her sovereign King.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 30 part 1
Sickness healed, and sorrow removed.
I Will extol thee, Lord, on high,
At thy command diseases fly:
Who but a God can speak and save
From the dark borders of the grave?
Sing to the Lord, ye saints of his,
And tell how large his goodness is;
Let all your powers rejoice and bless
While you record his holiness.
His anger but a moment stays;
His love is life and length of days;
Though grief and tears the night employ,
The morning star restores the joy.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 122
Believers buried with Christ in baptism.
Rom. 6:3,4,etc.
Do we not know that solemn word,
That we are buried with the Lord,
Baptized into his death, and then
Put off the body of our sin?
Our souls receive diviner breath,
Raised from corruption, guilt, and death;
So from the grave did Christ arise,
And lives to God above the skies.
No more let sin or Satan reign
Over our mortal flesh again;
The various lusts we served before
Shall have dominion now no more.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Hymn 81
A song for morning or evening.
Lam. 3:23; Isa. 45:7.
God, how endless is thy love!
Thy gifts are every evening new;
And morning mercies from above
Gently distill like early dew.
Thou spread'st the curtains of the night,
Great guardian of my sleeping hours;
Thy sovereign word restores the light,
And quickens all my drowsy powers.
I yield my powers to thy command,
To thee I consecrate my days;
Perpetual blessings from thine hand
Demand perpetual songs of praise.
poem by Isaac Watts
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