BETHANY, PSALM 102
By Dr. Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

A prayer of the afflicted.

HEAR me, O God, nor hide thy face,
But answer lest I die;
Hast thou not built a throne of grace
To hear when sinners cry?

My days are wasted like the smoke
Dissolving in the air;
My strength is dry'd, my heart is broke,
And sinking an despair.

My spirits flag like withering grass
Burnt with excessive heat;
In secret groans my minutes pass,
And I forget to eat.

As on some lonely building's top
The sparrow tells her moan,
Far from the tents of joy and hope
I sit and grieve alone.

My soul is like a wilderness,
Where beasts of midnight howl;
There the sad raven finds her place,
And there the screaming owl.

Dark dismal thoughts and boding fears
Dwell in my troubled breast;
While sharp reproaches wound my ears,
Nor give my spirit rest.

My cup is mingled with my woes,
And tears are my repast;
My daily bread like ashes grows
Unpleasant to my taste.

Sense can afford no real joy
To souls that feel thy frown;
Lord, 'twas thy hand advanc'd me high,
Thy hand hath cast me down.

My looks like wither'd leaves appear,
And life's declining light
Grows faint as evening shadows are,
That vanish into night.

But thou for ever art the same,
O my eternal God:
Ages to come shall know thy Name,
And spread thy works abroad.

Thou wilt arise and shew thy face,
Nor will my Lord delay
Beyond th' appointed hour of grace,
That long expected day.

He hears his saints, he knows their cry,
And by mysterious ways
Redeems the prisoners doom'd to die,
And fills their tongues with praise.

WASHINGTON, PSALM 68
By Dr. Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

Lord, when thou didst ascend on high,
Ten thousand angels filled the sky;
Those heav'nly guards around thee wait,
Like chariots that attend thy state.

Not Sinai's mountain could appear
More glorious when the Lord was there;
While he pronounced his dreadful law,
And struck the chosen tribes with awe.

How bright the triumph none can tell,
When the rebellious powers of hell,
That thousand souls had captive made,
Were all in chains like captives led.

Raised by his Father to the throne,
He sent the promised Spirit down
With gifts and grace for rebel men,
That God might dwell on earth again.

LEBANON
By Dr. Isaac Watts (1674-1748)

This spacious earth is all the Lord's,
And men, and worms, and beasts, and birds:
He raised the building on the seas,
And gave it for their dwelling-place.

But there's a brighter world on high,
Thy palace, Lord, above the sky:
Who shall ascend that blest abode,
And dwell so near his Maker God?

He that abhors and fears to sin,
Whose heart is pure, whose hands are clean,
Him shall the Lord the Savior bless,
And clothe his soul with righteousness.

These are the men, the pious race,
That seek the God of Jacob's face:
These shall enjoy the blissful sight,
And dwell in everlasting light.

Rejoice, ye shining worlds on high,
Behold the King of glory nigh!
Who can this King of glory be?
The mighty Lord, the Savior's he.

Ye heav'nly gates, your leaves display,
To make the Lord the Savior way:
Laden with spoils from earth and hell,
The Conqueror comes with God to dwell.

Raised from the dead, he goes before;
He opens heav'n's eternal door,
To give his saints a blest abode,
Near their Redeemer and their God.