Manuscript in Thomas Collection empty Mozart transcription by Mary Van Deusen

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BACKGROUND
BURTON, PSALM 150, Brady and Tate

O praise the Lord in that blest place,
From whence his goodness largely flows:
Praise him in heav'n where he his face,
Unveiled in perfect glory shows.

Praise him for all his mighty acts,
Which he on our behalf has done;
His kindness this return exacts,
Which with our praise should equal run.


RICKMANSWORTH, PSALM 101

Tenor and Baritone:
Of mercy's never failing spring
And steadfast Judgment I will sing,
And since they both to Thee belong,
To Thee O Lord address my song.


LITTLE MARLBOROUGH, PSALM 98, Dr. Watts

Come sound his praise abroad,
And hymns of glory sing,
Jehovah is the sovereign God,
The universal King.


CHESTER, Dr. Watts

With all my pow'r of heart & tongue,
I'll praise my maker in my song,
Angels shall hear the notes I raise,
Approve ye song & join ye praise.

[Amaranth Publishing has an upbeat, multi-part version of Chester. Listen to Amaranth midi]


WATLING, 34th PSALM, Dr. Watts

I'll bless ye Lord from day to day;
How good are all, how good are all his ways!
To humble souls that use to pray,
Come help my lips to praise.


WHITE HAVEN, 45th PSALM, Dr. Watts

The king of saints how fair his face
Adorn'd with majesty and grace!
He comes with blessings from above,
And wins the nations to his love.


BURTON, 150th PSALM
By Brady and Tate

O Praise the Lord in that blest place,
From whence his goodness largely flows;
Praise him in heav'n, where his face
Unveiled in perfect glory shows.

Praise him for all the mighty acts
Which he in our behalf hath done;
His kindness this return exacts,
With which our praise should equal run.

Let the shrill trumpet's warlike voice
Make rocks and hills his praise rebound;
Praise him with harp's melodious noise,
And gentle psalt'ry's silver sound.

Let virgin troops soft timbrels bring,
And some with graceful motion dance;
Let instruments of various strings,
With organs joined, his praise advance.

Let them, who joyful hymns compose,
To cymbals set their songs of praise,
Cymbals of common use, and those
That loudly sound on solemn days.

Let all that vital breath enjoy,
The breath he does to them afford
In just returns of praise employ:
Let ev'ry creature praise the Lord.


LITTLE MARLBOROUGH
By Dr. Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

Come, sound his praise abroad,
And hymns of glory sing;
Jehovah is the sovereign God,
The universal King.

He formed the deeps unknown;
He gave the seas their bound;
The wat'ry worlds are all his own,
And all the solid ground.

Come, worship at his throne;
Come, bow before the Lord:
We are his works, and not our own;
He formed us by his word.

Today attend his voice,
Nor dare provoke his rod;
Come, like the people of his choice,
And own your gracious God.

But if your ears refuse
The language of his grace,
And hearts grow hard, like stubborn Jews,
That unbelieving race;

The Lord, in vengeance dressed,
Will lift his hand and swear,
"You that despise my promised rest
Shall have no portion there."


CHESTER
Dr. Watts

With all the pow'r of heart and tongue,
I'll praise my Maker in my song.
Angels shall hear the notes I'll raise,
Approve the song, and join the praise.

I'll sing thy truth and mercy, Lord;
I'll sing the wonders of thy word.
Not all thy works and names below
So much thy pow'r and glory show.

Amidst a thousand snares I staand,
Upheld and guided by thy hand.
Thy words my fainting soul revive
And keep my dying faith alive.

Cyberhymnal LM midi arrangement of Chester


WATLING
By Dr. Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

I'll bless the Lord from day to day;
How good are all his ways!
Ye humble souls that use to pray,
Come, help my lips to praise.

Sing to the honor of his name,
How a poor suff'rer cried,
Nor was his hope exposed to shame,
Nor was his suit denied.

When threat'ning sorrows round me stood,
And endless fears arose,
Like the loud billows of a flood,
Redoubling all my woes;

I told the Lord my sore distress,
With heavy groans and tears;
He gave my sharpest torments ease,
And silenced all my fears.

O sinners, come and taste his love,
Come, learn his pleasant ways;
And let your own experience prove
The sweetness of his grace.

He bids his angels pitch their tents
Round where his children dwell;
What ills their heav'nly care prevents
No earthly tongue can tell.

O love the Lord, ye saints of his;
His eye regards the just:
How richly blest their portion is
Who make the Lord their trust!

Young lions, pinched with hunger, roar
And famish in the wood;
But God supplies his holy poor
With every needful good.


WHITE HAVEN
By Dr. Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

The King of saints, how fair His face,
Adorned with majesty and grace!
He comes with blessings from above,
And wins the nations to His love.

At His right hand our eyes behold
The queen arrayed in purest gold;
The world admires her heavenly dress,
Her robe of joy and righteousness.

He forms her beauties like His own;
He calls and seats her near His throne:
Fair stranger, let thine heart forget
The idols of thy native state.

So shall the King the more rejoice
In thee, the favourite of His choice;
Let Him be loved and yet adored,
For He's thy Maker and thy Lord.

O happy hour when thou shalt rise
To His fair palace in the skies,
And all thy sons (a numerous train)
Each like a prince in glory reign!

Let endless honours crown His head;
Let every age His praises spread;
While we with cheerful songs approve
The condescensions of His love.





        
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