appendix iii
British Psalm Tunes Arranged by Billings
Bangor
2. Behold, the Wicked bend their Bows,
Their Arrows they prepare
To shoot in Secret at those, who
Sincere and upright are.
3. Of worldly Hope all Stays were shrunk,
And clearly brought to nought,
Alas! the just and upright Man,
What Evil hath he wrought?
4. But he that in his Temple is
Most holy and most high,
And in the highest Heav’ns doth sit
In royal Majesty,
5. The poor and simple Man’s Estate
Considers in his Mind,
And searcheth out full narrowly
The Manners of Mankind;
6. And with a cheerful Countenance
The righteous Man will use,
But in his Heart he doth abhor
All such as Mischief muse:
7. And on the Sinners casteth Snares
As thick as Hail or Rain;
Brimstone and Fire, and Whirlwinds great,
Appointed for their Pain.
8. Ye see then how a righteous God
Doth Righteousness embrace,
And unto Just and upright Men
Shews forth his pleasant Face.
Buckingham
2. Whoso doth with his Neighbour talk,
’Tis all but Vanity;
For ev’ry Man bethinketh how
To speak deceitfully.
3. But flatt’ring and deceitful Lips
And Tongues that be so stout
To speak proud Words and make great Brags,
The Lord will soon cut out.
4. For they say still, “We will prevail,
Our Lips shall us extol;
Our Tongues are ours, we ought to speak;
What Lord shall us controul?”
5. But for the great Complaint and Cry
Of those that are opprest,
I will arise now, saith the Lord,
And them restore to rest.
6. God’s Word is like to Silver pure
That from the Dross is try’d,
Which hath not less than seven Times
In the Fire been purify’d.
7. Now since thy Promise is to help,
Lord, keep thy Promise then,
And save us now and evermore
From this ill Kind of Men.
8. For now the wicked World is full
Of Mischiefs manifold,
Whilst Vanity with worldly Men
So highly is extoll’d.
Isle of Wight
2. Oh! The sharp Pangs of smarting Pain
My dear Redeemer bore,
The knotty Whips, and ragged Thorns,
His sacred Body tore!
3. But knotty Whips, and ragged Thorns,
In vain do I accuse:
In vain I blame the Roman Bands,
And the more spiteful Jews:
4. ’Twere you, my Sins, my cruel Sins,
His chief Tormentors were;
Each of my Crimes became a Nail
And Unbelief—the Spear.
5. ’Twere you that pull’d the Vengeance down
Upon his guiltless Head:
Break, break, my Heart—oh, burst my Eyes,
And let my Sorrows bleed!
6. Strike, mighty Grace, my flinty Soul,
’Till melting Waters flow;
And deep Repentance drown mine Eyes
In undissembled Woe!
New Colchester
2. There the great Monarch of the Skies
His saving Pow’r displays,
And Light breaks in upon our Eyes
With kind and quick’ning Rays.
3. With his rich Gifts the heav’nly Dove
Descends and fills the Place,
While Christ reveals his wond’rous Love,
And sheds abroad his Grace.
4. There, mighty God, thy Words declare
The Secrets of thy Will;
Still we will seek thy Mercy there,
And sing thy Praises still.
5. My Heart and Flesh cry out for thee,
While far from thine Abode,
When shall I tread thy Courts and see
My Saviour and my God?
6. The Sparrow builds herself a Nest,
And suffers no Remove;
O make me like the Sparrow blest,
To dwell but where I love!
7. To sit one Day beneath thine Eye,
And hear thy gracious Voice,
Exceeds a whole Eternity
Employ’d in carnal Joys.
8. Lord, at thy Threshold I would wait
While Jesus is within,
Rather than fill a Throne of State,
Or live in Tents of Sin!
9. Could I command the spacious Land,
And the more boundless Sea,
For one blest Hour at thy Right-hand,
I’d give them both away.
Old Hundred
2. The Lord is God; ’tis he alone
Doth Life, and Breath, and Being give;
We are his Work, and not our own;
The Sheep which on his Pastures live.
3. Enter his Gates with Songs of Joy,
With Praises to his Courts repair,
And make it your divine Employ,
To pay your thankful Honours there.
4. The Lord is good; the Lord is kind;
Great is his Grace, his Mercy sure;
And the whole Race of Man shall find
His Truth from Age to Age endure.
Portsmouth
2. And in this barren Wilderness,
Where Waters there are none,
My Flesh is parch’d for Thought of thee,
For thee I wish alone;
3. That I might see yet once again,
Thy Glory, Strength, and Might,
As I was wont it to behold
Within thy Temple bright.
4. For why? Thy Mercies far surmount
This Life and wretched Days;
My Lips therefore shall give to thee
Due Honour, Laud, and Praise.
5. And whilst I live I will not fail
To worship thee alway;
And in thy Name I will lift up
My Hands when I do pray:
6. My Soul is as with Marrow fill’d,
Which is both fat and sweet;
My Mouth therefore shall sing such
Songs As are for thee most meet.
7. When in my Bed I think of thee,
And in the wakeful Night,
I under Covert of thy Wings
Rejoice with great Delight;
8. My Soul doth closely seek to thee,
Thy right Hand is my Pow’r,
And those that seek my Soul to slay
Death shall them soon devour:
9. The Sword shall them devour each one,
Their Carcases shall feed
The hungry Foxes which do run
Their Prey to seek at Need.
10. The King and all Men shall rejoice
That do profess God’s Word;
For Liars’ Mouths shall then be stopp’d,
And all their Ways abhorr’d.
Putney
2. In Vain, on Earth, we hope to find
Some solid Good to fill the Mind:
We try new Pleasures—but we feel
The inward Thirst, and Torment still.
3. So, when a raging Fever burns,
We shift from Side to Side by Turns;
And ’tis a poor Relief we gain,
To change the Place but keep the Pain.
4. Great God! Subdue this vicious Thirst,
This Love to Vanity and Dust;
Cure this vile Fever of the Mind,
And feed our Souls with Joys refin’d.
St. Ann’s
2. What empty Things are all the Skies,
And this interior Clod!
There’s nothing here deserves my Joys,
There’s nothing like my God.
3. In Vain the bright, the burning Sun
Scatters his feeble Light:
’Tis thy sweet Beams creates my Noon,
If thou withdraw, ’tis Night.
4. And whilst upon my restless Bed
Among the Shades I roll;
If my Redeemer shews his Head,
’Tis Morning with my Soul.
5. To thee I owe my Wealth and Friends,
And Health, and safe Abode;
Thanks to thy Name for meaner Things,
But they are not my God.
6. How vain a Toy is glitt’ring Wealth,
If once compar’d to Thee?
Or what’s my Safety, or my Health,
Or all my Friends, to me?
7. Were I Possessor of the Earth,
And call’d the Stars my own;
Without thy Graces, and thy Self,
I were a Wretch undone.
8. Let others stretch their Arms, like Seas,
And grasp in all the Shore;
Grant me the Visits of thy Face,
And I desire no more.
St. Hellen’s
2. Why should I make a Man my Trust?
Princes must die and turn to Dust;
Vain is the Help of Flesh and Blood;
Their Breath departs, their Pomp and Pow’r,
And Thoughts, all vanish in an Hour,
Nor can they make their Promise good.
3. Happy the Man whose Hopes rely
On Isr’el’s God! 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 lab’ring Conscience Peace;
He helps the Stranger in Distress,
The Widow and the Fatherless,
And grants the Pris’ner sweet Release.
5. He loves his Saints; he knows them well,
But turns the Wicked down to Hell:
Thy God, O Zion! ever reigns:
Let ev’ry Tongue, let ev’ry 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 nobler Pow’rs;
My Days of Praise shall ne’er be past
While Life and Thought and Being last,
Or Immortality endures.
St. Martin’s
2. Let Elders worship at his Feet,
The Church adore around,
With Vials full of Odours sweet,
And Harps of sweetest Sound.
3. Those are the Prayers of the Saints,
And these the Hymns they raise:
Jesus is kind to our Complaints,
He loves to hear our Praise.
4. Eternal Father, who shall look
Into thy secret Will?
Who but the Son shall take that Book,
And open ev’ry Seal?
5. He shall fulfil thy great Decrees;
The Son deserves it well:
Lo, in his Hand the sov’reign Keys
Of Heav’n, and Death, and Hell!
6. Now to the Lamb that once was slain,
Be endless Blessings paid:
Salvation, Glory, Joy, remain
For ever on thy Head.
7. Thou hast redeem’d our Souls with Blood,
Hast set the Pris’ners free:
Hast made us Kings and Priests to God,
And we shall reign with thee.
8. The Worlds of Nature and of Grace
Are put beneath thy Pow’r;
Then shorten these delaying Days,
And bring the promis’d Hour.