Thy retinue, princesses grace, Unfold the ivory palace-gate! For her He purchased with His blood! They come, they come, from earth's far bounds, With joy and tributary stores,— Gentile with Jew in concert sounds Her fame, while she her Lord adores : Lord, King, and Bridegroom! Hark the Voice In choral hymns to its renown! PSALM THE FORTY-SEVENTH. MESSIAH has triumphed! To the skies with our shout! Death, threatening and mocking, His arm overthrows! From the Grave springs Almighty! His foes fly in rout! And over the earth as its monarch he goes! Messiah has triumphed! Far diffuses His power Messiah has triumphed! With a warrior's cry, While rolls back in welcome each heavenly gate. Messiah has triumphed! The diadems bring Let earth still prolong To honour His state! The praises of Jesus, the glorified King, With heart's ardent, and mind's reflective, song. Messiah has triumphed! The Idolater yields! PSALM THE SEVENTY-SECOND. SON of the Eternal King! Tidings spread Thy peace around! Hill-sides echo with the sound! No inglorious peace He sends; Judgment, righteousness, its grounds! Need's poor children He defends; Long as yonder sun shall burn, But unlike those rolling orbs Righteous worth and gentle peace Shall adorn earth's deepmost vales, Flourishing with rich increase Till moon's latest crescent fails. Who shall bound His glorious reign? To where tosses farthest main, To where pulses nascent rill. Prowlers of the savage wild Bow before His claims as just: Though His enemies have piled High their seats, they bite the dust. There shall come each potentate Where the tear He 'll not repress ? Martyr-blood in streams may flow,— All confess His endless throne! Mines heave up their golden store ! Suppliance pours its ceaseless tone! And, unpausing, all adore! From the driven seed, the wind Bears to some rude, sterile, height, Who can seek his sheaves to bind? Yet His cause like this might seem,- Rural, civic, trophies yield! PP His a Name 'bove every name, Short thy time, confined thy bound! O what blessings, lavished wide, Hark! what rapturous hymns arise Smiles are wreathing out of tears! All shall bless Him! Lift thy voice Peal out in one chorus blent! Blessed God of Israel! Working marvels of His love! Blessing, honour, glory, power, Let the blest Immanuel's glory Amen, Amen!As he sung Israel's singer rose to heaven,- Charm, and harp, and heart, were riven ! PSALM THE EIGHTY-FOURTH. In vain, with all his art and fire, The Chief Musician strikes his chord; My soul is lost in this intent, With this fond wish it sinks opprest, Instinctive yearnings never erred, There would it flutter, brood, and sing, Supremely blest, in filial right, Is the Celestial family! They dwell for ever in Thy sight, Their strains they endlessly fulfil,— And he is blest, whose pilgrim road From strength to strength's untiring grade,Nor his a solitary part, A social way is in his heart! |