A Psalm of Praise

To the Tune of the 148th Psalm.

Ye holy angels bright,

Which stand before God’s throne,
And dwell in glorious light,
Praise ye the Lord each one.
You there so nigh
Are much more meet
Than we the feet,
For things so high.

You blessed souls at rest,

That see your Saviour’s face,
Whose glory, even the least
Is far above our grace;
God’s praises found,
As in his sight,
With sweet delight
You do abound.

All nations of the earth,

Extol the world’s great king;
With melody and mirth,
His glorious praises sing.
For he still reigns,
And will bring low,
The proudest foe,
That him disdains.

Sing forth Jehovah’s praise,

Ye saints that on him call:
Magnify him always,
His holy churches all:
In him rejoice;
And there proclaim
His holy name,
With sounding voice.

My soul, bear thou thy part:

Triumph in pod above;
With a well-tuned heart,
Sing thou the songs of love.
Thou art his own,
Whose precious blood
Shed for thy good,
His love made known. E
He did in love begin,

Renewing thee by grace,
Forgiving all thy sin,

Shew’d thee his pleased face.
He did thee heal,
By his son’s merit,
And by his spirit,
For glory seal.

In saddest thoughts and grief,
In sickness, fears, and pain.
1 cried for his relief,
And it was not in vain.
He heard with speed;
And still I found
Mercy abound,
In time of need.

Let not his praises grow

On prosperous heights alone;
But in the vales below,

Let his great love be known.
Let no distress,
Curb and controul
My winged soul,
And praise suppress.

Let not the fear or smart

Of his chastising rod,
Take off my fervent heart,
From praising my dear God.
Whate’er I feel,
Still let me bring
This offering,
And to him kneel.

Though I lose friends and wealth,
And bear reproach and shame;
Though I lose ease and health,
Still let me praise God’s name.
That fear and pain,
Which would destroy
My thanks and joy,
Do thou restrain.

Though human help depart,

And flesh draw near to dust;
Let faith keep up my heart,
To love God true and just:
And all my days.
Let no disease
Cause me to cease
His joyful praise.

Though sin would make me doubt,

And fill my soul with fears;
Though God seems to shut out,
My daily cries and tears:
By no such frost
Of sad delays,
Let thy sweet praise
Be nipp’d and lost.

Away, distrustful care!

I have thy promise, Lord
To banish all despair,
I have thy oath and word.
And therefore I
Shall see thy face,
And there thy grace
Shall magnify.

Though sin and death conspire,

To rob thee of thy praise,
Still towards thee I’ll aspire,
And thou dull hearts canst raise.
Open thy door;

And when grim death
Shall stop this breath,
I’ll praise thee more.

With thy triumphant flock,

Then I shall number’d be,
Built on th’ eternal rock,
His glory we shall see.
The Heav’ns so high,
With praise shall ring,
And all shall sing,
In harmony.

The sun is but a spark,

From the eternal light:
Its brightest beams are dark,
To that most glorious sight:
There the whole choir,
With one accord,
Shall praise the Lord
For evermore. -