appendix iii

British Psalm Tunes Arranged by Billings


2. Behold, the Wicked bend their Bows,

Their Arrows they prepare

To shoot in Secret at those, who

Sincere and upright are.

3. Of worldly Hope all Stays were shrunk,

And clearly brought to nought,

Alas! the just and upright Man,

What Evil hath he wrought?

4. But he that in his Temple is

Most holy and most high,

And in the highest Heav’ns doth sit

In royal Majesty,

5. The poor and simple Man’s Estate

Considers in his Mind,

And searcheth out full narrowly

The Manners of Mankind;

6. And with a cheerful Countenance

The righteous Man will use,

But in his Heart he doth abhor

All such as Mischief muse:

7. And on the Sinners casteth Snares

As thick as Hail or Rain;

Brimstone and Fire, and Whirlwinds great,

Appointed for their Pain.

8. Ye see then how a righteous God

Doth Righteousness embrace,

And unto Just and upright Men

Shews forth his pleasant Face.


2. Whoso doth with his Neighbour talk,

’Tis all but Vanity;

For ev’ry Man bethinketh how

To speak deceitfully.

3. But flatt’ring and deceitful Lips

And Tongues that be so stout

To speak proud Words and make great Brags,

The Lord will soon cut out.

4. For they say still, “We will prevail,

Our Lips shall us extol;

Our Tongues are ours, we ought to speak;

What Lord shall us controul?”

5. But for the great Complaint and Cry

Of those that are opprest,

I will arise now, saith the Lord,

And them restore to rest.

6. God’s Word is like to Silver pure

That from the Dross is try’d,

Which hath not less than seven Times

In the Fire been purify’d.

7. Now since thy Promise is to help,

Lord, keep thy Promise then,

And save us now and evermore

From this ill Kind of Men.

8. For now the wicked World is full

Of Mischiefs manifold,

Whilst Vanity with worldly Men

So highly is extoll’d.

Isle of Wight

2. Oh! The sharp Pangs of smarting Pain

My dear Redeemer bore,

The knotty Whips, and ragged Thorns,

His sacred Body tore!

3. But knotty Whips, and ragged Thorns,

In vain do I accuse:

In vain I blame the Roman Bands,

And the more spiteful Jews:

4. ’Twere you, my Sins, my cruel Sins,

His chief Tormentors were;

Each of my Crimes became a Nail

And Unbelief—the Spear.

5. ’Twere you that pull’d the Vengeance down

Upon his guiltless Head:

Break, break, my Heart—oh, burst my Eyes,

And let my Sorrows bleed!

6. Strike, mighty Grace, my flinty Soul,

’Till melting Waters flow;

And deep Repentance drown mine Eyes

In undissembled Woe!

New Colchester

2. There the great Monarch of the Skies

His saving Pow’r displays,

And Light breaks in upon our Eyes

With kind and quick’ning Rays.

3. With his rich Gifts the heav’nly Dove

Descends and fills the Place,

While Christ reveals his wond’rous Love,

And sheds abroad his Grace.

4. There, mighty God, thy Words declare

The Secrets of thy Will;

Still we will seek thy Mercy there,

And sing thy Praises still.

5. My Heart and Flesh cry out for thee,

While far from thine Abode,

When shall I tread thy Courts and see

My Saviour and my God?

6. The Sparrow builds herself a Nest,

And suffers no Remove;

O make me like the Sparrow blest,

To dwell but where I love!

7. To sit one Day beneath thine Eye,

And hear thy gracious Voice,

Exceeds a whole Eternity

Employ’d in carnal Joys.

8. Lord, at thy Threshold I would wait

While Jesus is within,

Rather than fill a Throne of State,

Or live in Tents of Sin!

9. Could I command the spacious Land,

And the more boundless Sea,

For one blest Hour at thy Right-hand,

I’d give them both away.

Old Hundred

2. The Lord is God; ’tis he alone

Doth Life, and Breath, and Being give;

We are his Work, and not our own;

The Sheep which on his Pastures live.

3. Enter his Gates with Songs of Joy,

With Praises to his Courts repair,

And make it your divine Employ,

To pay your thankful Honours there.

4. The Lord is good; the Lord is kind;

Great is his Grace, his Mercy sure;

And the whole Race of Man shall find

His Truth from Age to Age endure.


2. And in this barren Wilderness,

Where Waters there are none,

My Flesh is parch’d for Thought of thee,

For thee I wish alone;

3. That I might see yet once again,

Thy Glory, Strength, and Might,

As I was wont it to behold

Within thy Temple bright.

4. For why? Thy Mercies far surmount

This Life and wretched Days;

My Lips therefore shall give to thee

Due Honour, Laud, and Praise.

5. And whilst I live I will not fail

To worship thee alway;

And in thy Name I will lift up

My Hands when I do pray:

6. My Soul is as with Marrow fill’d,

Which is both fat and sweet;

My Mouth therefore shall sing such

Songs As are for thee most meet.

7. When in my Bed I think of thee,

And in the wakeful Night,

I under Covert of thy Wings

Rejoice with great Delight;

8. My Soul doth closely seek to thee,

Thy right Hand is my Pow’r,

And those that seek my Soul to slay

Death shall them soon devour:

9. The Sword shall them devour each one,

Their Carcases shall feed

The hungry Foxes which do run

Their Prey to seek at Need.

10. The King and all Men shall rejoice

That do profess God’s Word;

For Liars’ Mouths shall then be stopp’d,

And all their Ways abhorr’d.


2. In Vain, on Earth, we hope to find

Some solid Good to fill the Mind:

We try new Pleasures—but we feel

The inward Thirst, and Torment still.

3. So, when a raging Fever burns,

We shift from Side to Side by Turns;

And ’tis a poor Relief we gain,

To change the Place but keep the Pain.

4. Great God! Subdue this vicious Thirst,

This Love to Vanity and Dust;

Cure this vile Fever of the Mind,

And feed our Souls with Joys refin’d.

St. Ann’s

2. What empty Things are all the Skies,

And this interior Clod!

There’s nothing here deserves my Joys,

There’s nothing like my God.

3. In Vain the bright, the burning Sun

Scatters his feeble Light:

’Tis thy sweet Beams creates my Noon,

If thou withdraw, ’tis Night.

4. And whilst upon my restless Bed

Among the Shades I roll;

If my Redeemer shews his Head,

’Tis Morning with my Soul.

5. To thee I owe my Wealth and Friends,

And Health, and safe Abode;

Thanks to thy Name for meaner Things,

But they are not my God.

6. How vain a Toy is glitt’ring Wealth,

If once compar’d to Thee?

Or what’s my Safety, or my Health,

Or all my Friends, to me?

7. Were I Possessor of the Earth,

And call’d the Stars my own;

Without thy Graces, and thy Self,

I were a Wretch undone.

8. Let others stretch their Arms, like Seas,

And grasp in all the Shore;

Grant me the Visits of thy Face,

And I desire no more.

St. Hellen’s

2. 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 Pow’r,

And Thoughts, all vanish in an Hour,

Nor can they make their Promise good.

3. Happy the Man whose Hopes rely

On Isr’el’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.

4. The Lord hath Eyes to give the Blind;

The Lord supports the sinking Mind;

He sends the lab’ring Conscience Peace;

He helps the Stranger in Distress,

The Widow and the Fatherless,

And grants the Pris’ner sweet Release.

5. He loves his Saints; he knows them well,

But turns the Wicked down to Hell:

Thy God, O Zion! ever reigns:

Let ev’ry Tongue, let ev’ry Age,

In this exalted Work engage;

Praise him in everlasting Strains.

6. I’ll praise him while he lends me Breath,

And when my Voice is lost in Death

Praise shall employ my nobler Pow’rs;

My Days of Praise shall ne’er be past

While Life and Thought and Being last,

Or Immortality endures.

St. Martin’s

2. Let Elders worship at his Feet,

The Church adore around,

With Vials full of Odours sweet,

And Harps of sweetest Sound.

3. Those are the Prayers of the Saints,

And these the Hymns they raise:

Jesus is kind to our Complaints,

He loves to hear our Praise.

4. Eternal Father, who shall look

Into thy secret Will?

Who but the Son shall take that Book,

And open ev’ry Seal?

5. He shall fulfil thy great Decrees;

The Son deserves it well:

Lo, in his Hand the sov’reign Keys

Of Heav’n, and Death, and Hell!

6. Now to the Lamb that once was slain,

Be endless Blessings paid:

Salvation, Glory, Joy, remain

For ever on thy Head.

7. Thou hast redeem’d our Souls with Blood,

Hast set the Pris’ners free:

Hast made us Kings and Priests to God,

And we shall reign with thee.

8. The Worlds of Nature and of Grace

Are put beneath thy Pow’r;

Then shorten these delaying Days,

And bring the promis’d Hour.