Full Online Books
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
Full Online Book HomePoemsPsalm 148:2 Paraphrased (loud Hallelujahs To The Lord)
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
Psalm 148:2 Paraphrased (loud Hallelujahs To The Lord) Post by :PJ_Tenn Category :Poems Author :Isaac Watts Date :August 2011 Read :2967

Click below to download : Psalm 148:2 Paraphrased (loud Hallelujahs To The Lord) (Format : PDF)

Psalm 148:2 Paraphrased (loud Hallelujahs To The Lord)

Psalm 148:2. Paraphrased. L. M.
Universal praise to God.

Loud hallelujahs to the Lord,
From distant worlds where creatures dwell:
Let heaven begin the solemn word,
And sound it dreadful down to hell.

(Note. This psalm may be sung to the tune of the old 112th or
127th Psalm, if these two lines be added to every stanza, viz.)

Each of his works his Name displays,
But they can ne'er fulfil the praise.

(Otherwise it must be sung to the usual tunes of the Long Metre.)

The Lord! how absolute he reigns!
Let every angel bend the knee;
Sing of his love in heavenly strains,
And speak how fierce his terrors be.

High on a throne his glories dwell,
An awful throne of shining bliss:
Fly thro' the world, O sun, and tell
How dark thy beams compar'd to his.

Awake, ye tempests, and his fame
In sounds of dreadful praise declare;
And the sweet whisper of his Name
Fill every gentler breeze of air.

Let clouds, and winds, and waves agree
To join their praise with blazing fire;
Let the firm earth, and rolling sea,
In this eternal song conspire.

Ye flowery plains, proclaim his skill;
Vallies, lie low before his eye;
And let his praise from every hill
Rise tuneful to the neighbouring sky.

Ye stubborn oaks, and stately pines,
Bend your high branches and adore:
Praise him, ye beasts, in different strains;
The lamb must bleat, the lion roar.

Birds, ye must make his praise your theme,
Nature demands a song from you;
While the dumb fish that cut the stream
Leap up, and mean his praises too.

Mortals, can you refrain your tongue,
When nature all around you sings?
O for a shout from old and young,
From humble swains, and lofty kings!

Wide as his vast dominion lies
Make the Creator's name be known;
Loud as his thunder shout his praise,
And sound it lofty as his throne.

Jehovah! 'tis a glorious word,
O may it dwell on every tongue!
But saints who best have known the Lord
Are bound to raise the noblest song.

Speak of the wonders of that love
Which Gabriel plays on every chord:
From all below and all above,
Loud hallelujahs to the Lord!

(The end)
Isaac Watts's poem: Psalm 148:2. Paraphrased (Loud Hallelujahs To The Lord)

If you like this book please share to your friends :

The Will To Live The Will To Live

The Will To Live
SINCE Faith is a veil that has nothing behind it, And Hope wanders lost where no mortal can find it, Since Love is a mirror we break in a minute In snatching the image our soul has cast in it, What is the use of the Summers and Springs, The wave of the woods and the waft of the wings-- Since all means nothing, and good things and ill Make madness,--a mirage tormenting us still? Since all the fighting, the ardent endeavour, The heart cast bleeding to feed the Ideal, Are

The Jilted Lover To His Mother The Jilted Lover To His Mother

The Jilted Lover To His Mother
You needn't pray for me, old lady, I don't want no one's prayer, I'm fit and jolly as ever I was--you needn't think I care. When I go whistling down the road, when the warm night is falling, She needn't think I'm whistling her, it's another girl I'm calling. If I pass her house a dozen times, or fifty times a day, She needn't think I think of her, my work lies out that way. If they should tell her I've grown thin (for that is what they've told me) This cursed weather counts