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Manuscript in Thomas Collection empty Mozart transcription by Mary Van Deusen

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Transcription
DENBIGH, PSALM 117, Dr. Watts

From all who dwell below the skies,
Let the Creator's praise arise,
Let the Redeemer's name be sung
Through every land by every tongue.

Eternal are Thy mercies, Lord,
Eternal truth attends Thy word;
Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore,
Till suns shall rise and set no more.
Till suns shall rise and set no more.
Till suns shall rise and set no more.

Appears in brother John Henry's book of Psalms


146th PSALM, Dr. Watts (1719)

Tenor:
I'll praise my maker with my breath,
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my nobler powers.
My days of praise shall ne'er be past,
While life & thought & being last,
Or immortality endures.


DENBIGH, PSALM 117
146th PSALM
By Dr. Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

The same two verses only, that appear in Henry Livingston's manuscript book, also appear
in his brother's, Rev. Dr. John Henry Livingston's, Psalm and Hymn Book of 1814, p.198.

From all who dwell below the skies,
Let the Creator's praise arise;
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Let the Redeemer's Name be sung,
Through every land by every tongue.
O praise Him, O Praise Him!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Eternal are Thy mercies, Lord;
Eternal truth attends Thy Word.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore,
Till suns rise and set no more.
O praise Him, O Praise Him!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

In every land begin the song;
To every land the strains belong;
Alleluia! Alleluia!
In cheerful sounds all voices raise,
And fill the world with loudest praise.
O praise Him, O Praise Him!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!


146th PSALM
By Dr. Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

This full psalm appears in his brother's, Rev. Dr. John Henry Livingston's,
Psalm and Hymn Book of 1814, p.254-5.

I'LL praise my Maker with my breath;
And when my voice is lost in death
Praise shall employ my nobler powers:
My days of praise shall ne'er he past
While life and thought and being last,
Or immortality endures.

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 power,
And thoughts all vanish in an hour,
Nor can they make their promise good.

Happy the man whose hopes rely
On Israel'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.

The Lord hath eyes to give the blind;
The Lord supports the sinking mind;
He sends the labouring conscience peace:
He helps the stranger in distress,
The widow and the fatherless,
And grants the prisoner sweet release.

He loves his saints; he knows them well,
But turns the wicked down to hell;
Thy God, O Zion, ever reigns:
Let every tongue, let every age,
In this exalted work engage;
Praise him in everlasting strains.

I'll praise him while he lends me breath,
And when my voice is lost in death
Praise shall employ my nobler powers:
My days of praise shall ne'er be past
While life and thought and being last,
Or immortality endures.





        
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