PSALM 89
By Dr. Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

With rev'rence let the saints appear,
And bow before the Lord;
His high commands with rev'rence hear,
And tremble at his word.

How terrible thy glories be!
How bright thine armies shine!
Where is the power that vies with thee,
Or truth compared to thine?

The northern pole and southern rest
On thy supporting hand;
Darkness and day, from east to west,
Move round at thy command.

Thy words the raging winds control,
And rule the boist'rous deep;
Thou mak'st the sleeping billows roll,
The rolling billows sleep.

Heav'n, earth, and air, and sea, are thine,
And the dark world of hell;
How did thine arm in vengeance shine
When Egypt durst rebel!

Justice and judgment are thy throne,
Yet wondrous is thy grace;
While truth and mercy, joined in one,
Invite us near thy face.

AMSTERDAM
James Nares (1715-1783) and Robert Seagrave

Rise, my soul, and stretch thy wings,
Thy better portion trace;
Rise from transitory things,
Toward heaven, thy destined place.
Sun and moon and stars decay,
Time shall soon this earth remove;
Rise, my soul, and haste away
To seats prepared above.

Rivers to the ocean run,
Nor stay in all their course;
Fire ascending seeks the sun;
Both speed them to their source:
So my soul, derived from God,
Longs to view His glorious face,
Forward tends to His abode,
To rest in His embrace.

Cease, my soul, O cease to mourn!
Press onward to the prize;
Soon thy Savior will return,
To take thee to the skies.
There is everlasting peace,
Rest, enduring rest, in heaven;
There will sorrow ever cease,
And crowns of joy be given.

Cyberhymnal midi arrangement of Amsterdam

WELLS

By Dr. Isaac Watts (1674-1748)
Lyrics by Music by Israel Holdroyd

Life is the time to serve the Lord,
The time t'insure the great reward;
And while the lamp holds out to burn,
The vilest sinner may return.

Life is the hour which God has giv'n
To 'scape from hell, and fly to heav'n;
The day of grace, when mortals may
Secure the blessings of the day.

The living know that they must die,
But all the dead forgotten lie;
Their mem'ry and their sense are gone,
Alike unknowing and unknown.

Their hatred and their love are lost,
Their envy bury'd in the dust;
They have no share in all that's done
Beneath the circuit of the sun.

Then what my thoughts design to do,
My hands, with all your might pursue;
Since no device, nor work is found,
Nor faith, nor hope, beneath the ground.

There are no acts of pardon past
In the cold grave, to which we haste;
But darkness, death, and long despair
Reign in eternal silence there.