Psalm CXLIX

Verse 1

Come praise the Lord, ye tuneful bands, Ye saints assembled in his name; New streams of joy your God demands, New mercies all your praises claim.

Verse 2

Let Israel's tribes, with blessings crown'd, Their God, their mighty Maker sing; Ans Sion's sons with joy resound The endless glories of their king.

Verse 3

His name the measur'd dance shall guide, And joy and sacred mirth inspire; His name shall o'er the song preside, And tune the sweet, the charming lyre.

Verse 4

He bends complacent to your praise, Your God approves the blest employ; The thankful meek, his love will raise To crowns of everlasting joy.

Verse 5

O let the saints aloud rejoice, And sounds of glory fill the song; All day let rapture tune their voice, And night the blissful strain prolong.

Verse 6

Let ev'ry mouth be fill'd with praise, The God of heav'n their awful theme; Whilst his resistless sword displays, In heav'n-taught hands, his dreadful name.

Verse 7

Bright terrors wait his high commands, When justice waves the flaming sword, Vindictive o'er the heathen lands, Which hate his saints and scorn his word.

Verse 8

While haughty princes bound in chains, Confess the just, the pow'rful God; Let awful joy in warlike strains, Proclaim his glorious acts abroad.

Verse 9

His hand, thus righteously severe, Fulfills the threat'nings of his word; Thus honour'd shall the saints appear; Adore the great, the glorious Lord.