THERE’S lots of music in the Psalms,
Those dear, sweet Psalms of old,
With visions bright of land of light
And shining streets of gold.
I hear them singing, singing, still,
In memory soft and clear,
“Such pity as a father hath
Unto his children dear.”
They seem to sing for evermore
Of better, sweeter days,
When the lilies of the love of God
Bloomed white in all the ways;
And still I hear the solemn strains
In the quaint old meeting flow,
“O, greatly blessed the people are
The joyful sound that know.”
No singing books we needed there;
For very well we knew
The tunes and words, we knew so well
The dear old Psalm book through.
To “Coleshill” at the Sacrament,
The song as tears would fall,
“I’ll of salvation take the cup,
On God’s name will I call.”
And so I love the dear old Psalms,
And when my time shall come,
Before the light has left my eyes,
And my singing lips are dumb,
If I can only hear them then,
I’ll gladly soar away,
“So pants my longing soul, O Lord,
That come to Thee I may.”
—Selected.