Psalms 114-116

Psalm 114

1 WHEN forth from Egypt's trembling strand The tribes of Israel sped, And Jacob in the stranger's land Departing banners spread;

2 Then One, amid their thick array His kingly dwelling made, And all along the desert way Their guiding sceptre sway'd.

3 The sea beheld, and struck with dread, Roll'd all its billows back; And Jordan, through his deepest bed, Reveal'd their destined track.

4 What ail'd thee, O thou mighty seat Why roll'd thy waves in dread?

What bade thy tide, O Jordan, flee And bare its deepest bed?

5 O earth, before the Lord, the God Of Jacob, tremble still: Who makes the waste a water'd sod, The flint a gushing rill.

George Burgess, 1839.

Psalm 115

1 ALL glory be to Thee, Who dwellest high in heaven; Not to a feeble child of clay Be praise or worship given:

Thy hand the mightiest can o'erthrow, And dash their every idol low.

2 All glory, Lord, be Thine, Our fortress and our shield: Whose arm upholds Thine Israel, And strengthens for the field: In Thee Thy faithful people trust, And lay the proudest in the dust.

3 Blest by Thy favour, Lord, No foe can work us ill:

Supported by Thy gracious word, We feel Thee present still; And e'en in death and in the grave Shall own Thy power to help and save.

Robert Allan Scott, 1835

Psalm 116 (1 of 3)

1 I LOVE the Lord: He heard my cries, And pitied every groan:

Long as I live, when troubles rise, I'll hasten to His throne.

2 I love the Lord: He bow'd His ear, And chased ray griefs away;

Oh let my heart no more despair, While I have breath to pray!

3 My flesh declined, my spirits fell, And I drew near the dead;

While inward pangs, and fears of hell, Perplex'd my wakeful head.

4 "My God," I cried," Thy servant save Thou ever good and just;

Thy power can rescue from the grave, Thy power is all my trust."

5 The Lord beheld me sore distress'd, He bid my pains remove:

Return, my soul, to God thy rest, For thou hast known His love.

6 My God hath saved my soul from death, And dried my falling tears;

Now to His praise I'll spend my breath, And my remaining years.

Isaac Watts, 1719.