Part 62 (1/2)

Princes must die and turn to dust; Vain is the help of flesh and blood: Their breath departs, their pomp and power, And thoughts all vanish in an hour, Nor can they make their promise good.

3 Happy the man whose hopes rely On Israel's G.o.d: he made the sky, And earth and seas with all their train; His truth for ever stands secure; He saves th' opprest, he feeds the poor, And none shall find his promise vain.

4 The Lord hath eyes to give the blind; The Lord supports the sinking mind; He sends the labouring conscience peace: He helps the stranger in distress, The widow and the fatherless, And grants the prisoner sweet release.

5 He loves his saints; he knows them well, But turns the wicked down to h.e.l.l; Thy G.o.d, O Zion, ever reigns: Let every tongue, let every age, In this exalted work engage; Praise him in everlasting strains.

6 I'll praise him while he lends me breath, And when my voice is lost in death Praise shall employ my n.o.bler powers: My days of praise shall ne'er be past While life and thought and being last, Or immortality endures.

Psalm 147:1. First Part.

The divine nature, providence and grace.

1 Praise ye the Lord; 'tis good to raise Our hearts and voices in his praise; His nature and his works invite To make this duty our delight.

2 The Lord builds up Jerusalem, And gathers nations to his Name: His mercy melts the stubborn soul, And makes the broken spirit whole.

3 He form'd the stars, those heavenly flames, He counts their numbers, calls their names: His wisdom's vast, and knows no bound, A deep where all our thoughts are drown'd.

4 Great is our Lord, and great his might; And all his glories infinite: He crowns the meek, rewards the just, And treads the wicked to the dust.

PAUSE.

5 Sing to the Lord, exalt him high, Who spreads his cloud all round the sky, There he prepares the fruitful rain, Nor lets the drops descend in vain.

6 He makes the gra.s.s the hills adorn, And clothes the smiling fields with corn, The beasts with food his hands supply, And the young ravens when they cry.

7 What is the creature's skill or force, The sprightly man, the warlike horse, The nimble wit, the active limb?

All are too mean delights for him.

8 But saints are lovely in his sight; He views his children with delight: He sees their hope, he knows their fear, And looks and loves his image there.

Psalm 147:2. Second Part.

Summer and winter.

A song for Great Britain.

1 O Britain, praise thy mighty G.o.d, And make his honours known abroad, He bid the ocean round thee flow; Not bars of bra.s.s could guard thee so.

2 Thy children are secure and blest; Thy sh.o.r.es have peace, thy cities rest; He feeds thy sons with finest wheat, And adds his blessing to their meat.

3 Thy changing season he ordains, Thine early and thy later rains: His flakes of snow like wool he sends, And thus the springing corn defends.

4 With h.o.a.ry frost he strews the ground; His hail descends with clattering sound: Where is the man so vainly bold That dares defy his dreadful cold?

5 He bids the southern breezes blow, The ice dissolves, the waters flow; But he hath n.o.bler works and ways To call the Britons to his praise.

6 To all the Isle his laws are shown, His gospel thro' the nation known; He hath not thus reveal'd his word To every land: Praise ye the Lord.