Psalms 90-91

Psalm 90

1 OUR God, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come; Our shelter from the stormy blast, And our eternal home!

2 Under the shadow of Thy throne Thy saints have dwelt secure;

Sufficient is Thine arm alone, And our defence is sure.

3 Before the hills in order stood, Or earth received her frame, From everlasting Thou art God, To endless years the same.

4 A thousand ages in Thy sight Are like an evening gone;

Short as the watch that ends the night Before the rising sun.

5 Time, like an ever-rolling stream, Bears all its sons away;

They fly forgotten, as a dream Dies at the opening day.

6 Like flowery fields the nations stand, Pleased with the morning light; The flowers beneath the mower's hand Lie withering ere 'tis night.

7 Our God, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come; Be Thou our guard while troubles last, And our eternal home!

Isaac Watts, 1719

Psalm 91 (1 of 3)

1 HE that hath made his refuge God Shall find a most secure abode, Shall walk all day beneath His shade, And there at night shall rest his head.

2 Then will I say, "My God, Thy power Shall be my fortress and my tower:

I, that am form'd of feeble dust, Make Thine almighty arm my trust."

3 Thrice happy man! thy Maker's care Shall keep thee from the fowler's snare;

Satan, the fowler, who betrays Unguarded souls a thousand ways.

4 Just as a hen protects her brood, From birds of prey that seek their blood, Under her feathers, so the Lord Makes His own arm His people's guard.

5 If vapours, with malignant breath, Rise thick, and scatter midnight death, Israel is safe; the poison'd air Grows pure, if Israel's God be there.

6 What though a thousand at thy side, At thy right hand, ten thousand died, Thy God His chosen people saves Amongst the dead, amidst the graves.

7 But if the fire, or plague, or sword, Receive commission from the Lord To strike His saints among the rest, Their very pains and deaths are blest.

8 The sword, the pestilence, or fire, Shall but fulfil their best desire; From sins and sorrows set them free, And bring Thy children, Lord, to Thee.

Isaac Watts, 1719.

Psalm 91 (2of 3)

1 THERE is a safe and secret place, Beneath the wings divine, Reserved for all the heirs of grace, Oh, be that refuge mine!

2 The least, the feeblest there may hide Uninjured and unawed;

While thousands fall on every side, He rests secure in God.

3 The angels watch him on his way, And aid with friendly arm; And Satan, roaring for his prey, May hate, but cannot harm.

4 He feeds in pastures large and fair, Of love and truth divine, O child of God, O Glory's heir, How rich a lot is thine!

5 A hand almighty to defend, An ear for every call, An honour'd life, a peaceful end, And heaven to crown it all I Henry Francis Lyte, 1834.