SING me the Psalms, the glorious Psalms of old,
That sounded first upon Judea’s plains;
All other music lifeless seems, and cold,
Beside the melody of David’s strains.
Sing me the Psalms that echoed from the hills,
Those favour’d hills where Israel’s sons had birth.
Wake, wake each harmony the soul that fills
With rapture, more allied to heaven than earth!
Sing Psalms of praise, when victory is given
O’er outward foes, or over hosts unseen;
Jehovah Jah still reigns in earth and heaven,
As strong to save as He hath ever been.
Sing, when the earth is clad in softest green;
Join Psalms of gladness to the birds’ sweet song.
Praise Israel’s Shepherd, when his hand is seen
Leading thy steps the quiet streams along.
Sing, when all nature wears a snowy shroud;
When ice-bound fountains into torrents rush;
When azure skies are veiled behind the cloud,
Let wond’ring praises from thy Psaltery gush.
Sing me the Psalms, e’en when the burning tear
Tells of departure from the narrow way;
Oft David’s song was sad when he was here;
O’erwhelmed with sin, he turned to weep and pray.
Sing, though affliction swelleth like a tide,
When deep to deep calls, in thine hour of woe;
Thine anchor’s safe within the Rock’s cleft side;
Billows may toss, but cannot overflow.
Sing David’s Psalms, when earthly lights grow dim,
And ev’ry conflict but the last is o’er;
Bid mourners join in the triumphant hymn,
That wings thy spirit to the heavenly shore!