Psalms 45

Psalm 45 (2 of 4)

1 WITH hearts in love abounding, Prepare we now to sing A lofty theme, resounding Thy praise, Almighty King; Whose love, rich gifts bestowing, Redeem'd the human race; Whose lips, with zeal o'erflowing, Breathe words of truth and grace.

2 In majesty transcendent, Gird on Thy conquering sword; In righteousness resplendent, Ride on, Incarnate Word.

Ride on, O King Messiah! To glory and renown;

Pierced by Thy darts of fire, Be every foe o'erthrown.

3 So reign, O God, in heaven, Eternally the same, And endless praise be given To Thy almighty name.

Clothed in Thy dazzling brightness, Thy church on earth behold; In robe of purest whiteness, In raiment wrought in gold,

4 And let each Gentile nation Come gladly in Thy train, To share her great salvation, And join her grateful strain:

Then ne'er shall note of sadness Awake the trembling string;

One song of joy and gladness The ransom'd world shall sing.

Harriett Auber, 1829

Psalm 45 (3 of 4)

1 WARM with love, my heart's inditing Cherish'd thoughts on sacred things; With my tongue like ready writing, I'll extol the King of kings; Of whose glory Ev'ry saint and angel sings.

2 Thou of all the sons art fairest, Yea, Thy lips are fill'd with grace;

All Thy fulness, Lord, Thou sharest 'Mongst Thy chosen, ransom'd race; And in glory They shall see Thee face to face.

3 O most mighty, O most blessed, Gird Thy sword upon Thy thigh; Be Thy Majesty confessed, Bring Thy blood-bought trophies nigh;

Let Thy glory All Thy stubborn foes defy.

4 Truth and righteousness, and meekness, Are the weapons of Thy hand;

All Thy foes shall know their weakness, None can Jesus' power withstand;

'Tis Thy glory, Rebels bow at Thy command.

Joseph Irons, 1847, a.

Psalm 45 (4 of 4)

1 HAIL, mighty Jesus! how divine Is Thy victorious sword! The stoutest rebel must resign At Thy commanding word.

2 Deep are the wounds Thy arrows give, They pierce the hardest heart;

Thy smiles of grace the slain revive, And joy succeeds to smart.

3 Still gird Thy sword upon Thy thigh, Ride with majestic sway, Go forth, sweet Prince, triumphantly, And make Thy foes obey.

4 And when Thy victories are complete, When all the chosen race Shall round the throne of glory meet, To sing Thy conquering grace,

5 Oh may my humble soul be found Among that favour'd band! And I with them Thy praise will sound Throughout Immanuel's land.

Benjamin Wallin, 1750.

Augustus M. Toplady, 1776.