3 Soon as the ev'ning shades prevail, The moon takes up the wond'rous tale, And, nightly, to the list'ning earth
Repeats the story of her birth;
4 Whilst all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.
5 What though, in solemn silence, all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball;
What though no real voice or sound
Amid their radiant orbs be found;
6 In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice;
For ever singing, as they shine,
"The Hand that made us is divine!"
PSALM XIX. Second Version. C. M.
1 THE heav'ns declare thy glory, Lord,
Which that alone can fill;
The firmament and stars express
Their great CREATOR'S Skill.
2 The dawn of each returning day
Fresh beams of knowledge brings, And from the dark returns of night Divine instruction springs.
3 Their pow'rful language to no realm
Or region is confin'd:
'Tis Nature's voice, and understood
Alike by all mankind.
1 THE God, whom heav'n and earth obey,
Did shield us in the dreadful day;
The God of battles o'er our head
His own victorious banner spread.
2 The God of battles Thee we own:
The vict'ry, Lord, is thine alone:
To Thee our grateful hearts we raise,
And own thy hand, and sing thy praise.
3 Oh! when we praise and when we pray,
Do Thou, whom heav'n and earth obey,
Accept the praise, confirm the prayer,.
And make our safety still thy care.
PSALM XXI. C. M.
1 THE king, O Lord, with songs of praise
Shall in thy strength rejoice;
With thy salvation crown'd, shall raise
To heav'n his cheerful voice.
2 Thy sure defence through nations roundHas spread his glorious name;
And his successful actions crown'd
With majesty and fame.
3 Because the king on God alone
For timely aid relies ;
His mercy still supports his throne,
And all his wants supplies.
1 My God, my God, why leav`st thou me
When I with anguish faint?
O why so far from me remov'd,
And from my loud complaint?
2 All day, but all the day unheard,
To Thee do I complain;
With cries implore relief all night,
But cry all night in vain.
3 Withdraw not then so far from me,
When trouble is so nigh;
O send me help! thy help, on which
I only can rely.
4 Thus in thy sacred courts will I
My cheerful thanks express;
In presence of thy saints perform
The vows of my distress.
1 My Shepherd is the living Lord,
Nothing therefore I need;
In pastures fair, near pleasant streams,
He setteth me to feed.
2 He shall convert and glad my soul,
And bring my mind in frame,
To walk in paths of righteousness,
For His most holy name.
3 Yea, though I walk in vale of death
Yet will I fear no ill;
Thy rod and staff do comfort me,
And Thou art with me still.
4 Through all my life, thy favour is
So frankly shew'd to me,
That in thy house for evermore
My dwelling place shall be.
PSALM XXIII. Second Version. P. M.
1 THE Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care.
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye.
My noon-day walks He shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.
2 When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountain pant,
To fertile vales and dewy meads,
My weary wand'ring steps He leads;
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.
3 Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill,
For Thou, O Lord, art with me still:
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me thro' the dreadful shade.
PSALM XXIV. L. M.
1 OUR Lord is ris'n from the dead,
Our Saviour is gone up on high:
The pow'rs of hell are captive led,
Dragg'd to the portals of the sky.
2 There his triumphal chariot waits,
And angels chaunt the solemn lay:
Lift up your heads, ye heav'nly gates;
Ye everlasting doors, give way.
3 Loose all your bars of massy light,
And wide unfold th' ethereal scene:
He claims these mansions as His right:
Receive the King of Glory in.
4 Who is the King of Glory? who?
The Lord that all His foes o'ercame,
The world, sin, death, and hell o'erthrew,
And JESUS is the Conqu'ror's name.
5 Lo! His triumphal chariot waits,
And angels chaunt the solemn lay:
Lift up your heads, ye heav'nly gates;
Ye everlasting doors, give way.
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