English

On Thee my captiv'd soul did call,
Thou, Who art present ev'rywhere,
From the dark entrails of the whale,
Didst thy entombed servant hear.
Thy Hand into the surges threw,
The sea's black arms forthwith unfold,
Down to the horrid bottom drew,
And all her waves upon me roll'd.
Then said my soul: For ever I
Am banish'd from Thy glorious sight;
And yet Thy temple with the eye
Of faith review'd in that blind night.
The floods my soul involv'd below,
The swallowing deeps besieg'd me round,

Part I.

I N the subtraction of my years,
I said with tears:
Ah! now I to the shades below
Must naked go:
Cut off by death before my time,
And like a flow'r cropp'd in my prime.

Lord, in Thy temple I no more
Shall Thee adore;
No longer with mankind converse
In my cold hearse.
My age is past ere it be spent,
Removed like a shepherd's tent.

My frail life, like a weaver's thread,
My sins have shred:

Part I.

O UR Sion strongly is secur'd,
Which God Himself hath fortified;
High bulwarks rais'd on ev'ry side,
And with immortal walls immur'd:
Her gates at their approach display
Who justice love, and truth obey.

Who fix on Him their confidence,
He will in constant peace preserve.
O then with faith Jehovah serve,

Now I to My Beloved will
A song of My Beloved sing:
He hath a vineyard on a hill,
Which all the year enjoy'd the spring.
This He inclosed with a mound,
Pick'd up the stones which scatter'd lay:
With gen'rous vines plants the rich ground;
Digg'd, prun'd, and weeded ev'ry day.
To press the clusters made a frame,
Plac'd in a new-erected tow'r;
But when th' expected vintage came,
For good, the grapes prov'd wild and sour.
You who on Judah's hills reside,
Who citizens of Salem be,

Part I.

M Y Lord, my God, O who am I,
Or what is my poor family,
That Thou should'st crown,
With pow'r renown,
And raise my throne on high?

As this were little, in my place
Hast promis'd to confirm my race.
Do men, O Lord,
To men afford
Such, such transcendent grace?

Not to be hop'd for nor desir'd,
Not to be utter'd, but admir'd:

Thy beauty, Israel, is fled,
Sunk to the dead.
How are the valiant fall'n! the slain
Thy mountains stain.
O let it not in Gath be known,
Nor in the streets of Ascalon!

Lest that sad story should excite
Their dire delight:
Lest in the torrent of our woe
Their pleasure flow:
Lest their triumphant daughters ring
Their cymbals, and curs'd paeans sing.

You hills of Gilboa, never may
You off'rings pay:
No morning dew, nor fruitful showers,
Clothe you with flowers:

Part I.

G OD hath rais'd my head on high:
O my heart, enlarge thy joy!
God hath now my tongue untied,
To retort their scorn and pride.
In Thy grace I will rejoice;
Praise Thee, while I have a voice.
Who so holy as our Lord?
Who but He to be ador'd?
Who such wonders can effect?
Who so strongly can protect?
Be no longer arrogant,
Nor in folly proudly vaunt:
God our secret thoughts displays;
All our works His balance weighs.
Giants' bows His forces break;

JUDGES V.

Part I.

Y OUR Great Preserver celebrate,
He who reveng'd our wrongs of late!
When you His sons, in Israel's aid,
Of life so brave a tender made.
You princes, with attention hear,
And you who awful sceptres bear,
While I in sacred numbers sing
The praise of our Eternal King.
When He through Seir His army led,
In Edom's fields His ensigns spread,
Earth shook, the heav'ns in drops descend,
And clouds in tears their substance spend.

Part I.

L END , O you heav'ns, unto my voice an ear,
And thou, O earth, what I shall utter, hear.
My words shall fall like dew, like April showers
On tender herbs and new-disclosed flowers,
While I the goodness of our God proclaim:
O celebrate His great and glorious Name!
Our Rock, Whose works are perfect. Justice leads,
And equal judgment walks the way He treads.
In Him unstain'd sincerity excells;
The God of Truth, in Whom no falsehood dwells:

EXODUS XV.

Part I.

T HE praise of our triumphant King,
And of His victory we sing,
Who in the seas with horrid force
O'erthrew the rider and his horse.
My Strength, my God, my Argument,
My father's God, hath safety sent.
To Him will I a mansion raise,
There celebrate His glorious praise.
His sword hath won eternal fame,
And Great Jehovah is His Name.
Lo! Pharaoh's chariots, his proud host,
Are in the swallowing billows lost.