Psalms 72-73

Psalm 72 (1 of 2)

1 JESUS shall reign where'er the sun Does His successive journeys run; His kingdom stretch from shore to shore, Till moons shall wax and wane no more.

2 For Him shall endless prayer be made, And praises throng to crown His head; His name like sweet perfume shall rise With every morning sacrifice.

3 People and realms of every tongue Dwell on His love with sweetest song, And infant voices shall proclaim Their early blessings on His name.

4 Blessings abound where'er He reigns; The prisoner leaps to lose his chains; The weary find eternal rest; And all the sons of want are bless'd.

5 Where He displays His healing power, Death and the curse are known no more; In Him the tribes of Adam boast More blessings than their father lost.

6 Let every creature rise and bring Peculiar honours to our King;

Angels descend with songs again, And earth repeat the loud Amen.

Isaac Watts, 1719.

Psalm 72 (2 of 2)

1 HASTEN, Lord, the glorious time, When, beneath Messiah's sway, Every nation, every clime, Shall the gospel's call obey.

2 Then shall wars and tumults cease, Then be banish'd grief and pain;

Righteousness, and joy, and peace, Undisturb'd shall ever reign.

3 As when soft and gentle showers Fall upon the thirsty plain, Springing grass and blooming flowers Clothe the wilderness again;

4 So Thy Spirit shall descend, Soft'ning every stony heart, And His sweetest influence lend, All that's lovely to impart.

5 Time shall sun and moon obscure, Seas be dried, and rocks be riven, But His reign shall still endure, Endless as the days of heaven.

6 Bless we, then, our gracious Lord, Ever praise His glorious name;

All His mighty acts record, All His wondrous love proclaim.

Harriett Auber, 1829.

Psalm 73 (1 of 3)

1 LORD, what a thoughtless wretch was I, To mourn, and murmur, and repine, To see the wicked placed on high, In pride and robes of honour shine.

2 But, oh their end! their dreadful end!

Thy sanctuary taught me so: On slipp'ry rocks I see them stand, And fiery billows roll below.

3 Now let them boast how tall they rise, I'll never envy them again;

There they may stand with naughty eyes, Till they plunge deep in endless pain.

4 Their fancied joys, how fast they flee!

Just like a dream when man awakes: Their songs of softest harmony Are but a preface to their plagues.

5 Now I esteem their mirth and wine Too dear to purchase with my blood;

Lord, 'tis enough that Thou art mine; My life, my portion, and my God.

Isaac Watts, 1719.