Psalms and hymns plus

20140121

Psalm 148

Supremacy

Praise to the Lord. Praise God from heav’n,
Praise him above so far.
Praise him all angels, hosts of heav’n.
Praise him sun, moon and star.
Praise him O highest heavens, give praise,
Praise him you streams above the skies.

Let them the name of God give praise.

He spoke and they were made.
For evermore he set their place,
His Word must be obeyed.
His sure decree can’t pass away
So they must praise his name each day.

Praise give to God throughout the earth,

All creatures of the seas;
Lightning, hail, snow; clouds, winds that serve;
Hills, mountains; cedars, trees;
Beasts of the wild beneath the sky,
Small creatures, cattle, birds that fly.

Kings of the earth, their people too,

Princes and heads on earth,
Young men and maidens, old men too,
And children from their birth,
Praise God’s great name, the name so high;
His splendour is above the sky.

He for his people’s raised a horn,
Of all his saints the praise.
Of Isra’l, those whom he has borne,
Close to his heart always.
So give all praise to God again
Praise to the Lord, praise God, Amen.

Psalm 149

Hanover

Sing praise to the Lord, sing God a new song,

His praise in the midst of the holy throng.
Let Israel rejoice in their Maker and sing;
Let all Zion’s people be glad in their King.

Let them with the dance give praise to his name.
With timbrel and harp make music to him,
For God in his people his pleasure will take,
With crowns of salvation adorning the meek.

Let saints now rejoice in honour restored,

Let them on their beds sing praise in accord.
May praises to God from their mouths be outpoured
And there in their hands, a double-edged sword.

Let them inflict wrath on all heathen lands.

With fetters bind kings, their nobles ir’n bands;
The sentence that’s written against them fulfil.
This is the saints’ glory. O praise the LORD still!

Psalm 150

CMD

O hallelujah, praise the Lord,
His sanctuary within.
O hallelujah, praise the Lord,
High in his mighty heaven.
Praise him for great and mighty acts,
All wrought by his own power.
Praise him for greatness unsurpassed
Up to this very hour.

Praise him with trumpet sounding out,

Praise him with harp and lute.
Praise him with timbrel, dance about,
Praise him with strings and flute.
Praise him with clash of cymbals loud,
With cymbals that resound,
Let everything with breath praise God,
O come let’s praise the Lord!

20131218

Psalm 58

CMD

Do you rulers speak what is just?
Do you correctly judge?
No, in your heart you are unjust,
Your hands harm all you touch.
The wicked from the womb mistake,
They lie from birth, they veer.
Their venom's like that of a snake,
A cobra that can't hear.

These snakes the charmer's tune ignore

How ever well they play.
Their teeth, O God, from their mouths tear,
Take lions' fangs away!
Let them vanish as water flows,
Blunted their arrows be,
As slugs melt or a stillborn goes -
May they the sun not see.

Before your pots can feel the heat,

Thorns green or dry below,
Away the wicked all are swept,
The righteous glad to know.
The righteous bathe their feet in blood
That from the wicked flowed.
All say they have their just reward
And all earth's judged by God.

20131005

Psalm 57

10.10.10.10

Mercy, O my God, have mercy on me,
Because now my soul takes refuge in you.
The shadow of your wings my refuge be,
Until the disaster has passed on through.

I cry to God, God Most High I cry to,
God who fulfils his purpose for me, sends
From heav'n and saves, rebukes foes who pursue,
With love and with faithfulness God descends.

I, in the midst of li'ns, with fierce beasts, lie -
Men's teeth - spears and arrows, their tongues - sharp swords.
Above the heavens, God, be lifted high;
Let all the glory through earth be the Lord's.

For my feet they nets spread - bowed down, distressed.
They dug pits in my path but in them fell.
Steadfast my heart, God, still steadfast my heart;
I will sing and I'll make music as well.

Awake, my soul! Wake harp and lyre new strung!
Dawn I'll awake as it comes into view
I'll praise you, Lord, all the nations among;
Among the peoples, I will sing of you.

For great is your love, reaching to the sky;
Your faithfulness reaches ever upwards.
Above the heavens, God, be lifted high;
Let all the glory through earth be the Lord's.

20130208

Poets observe

Poets observe,
That's what they do,
A sparrow that sings,
A wasp's whisp'ring wings,
The brown leaves now few,
Light thrown on the dew.

Poets observe,
That's what they do,
Green ivy that clings,
The sharp nettle stings,
The foxgloves that grew,
White seagulls that flew.

Poets observe,
That's what they do,
The silver bell rings,
The joy morning brings.
Black crows in a yew,
The way the wind blew.

Poets observe,
That's what they do,
Now pulling some strings
And transforming things,
But does it ring true?
Well, that's up to you!

20121219

"Done because we are too menny"

How many will heaven hold?

How many does God love?

Is this sounding too bold?

What's too hard for the Lord?

What is it he can't do?

Leave your dross for this gold.

He hates the death of souls,

He loves the sinner, true,

Longs to enlarge the fold.

How many will heaven hold?

How many does God love?

Their number can't be told.

I read Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy in my early twenties. A miserable book, it reaches a low point when the socially-disturbed son of the hero and his lover "Little Father Time," comes to believe that he and his half-siblings are the source of the family's woes and so murders her two children and commits suicide by hanging. He leaves behind a note that simply reads, "Done because we are too menny." No wonder Hardy wrote no more novels. This was my oblique response.

20121218

Kanpur August 31 1979

I know big boys don't cry
But I'm ill and I'm down.
My spirit burns low,
And my heartfelt cry -
Not medicine, father,
Not comfort, not home,
Simply "Mam".
Where's my mother?
O to be in her arms,
O to be cradled, caressed,
To be cared for by no other hand,
Take me home to my mother land!

(As a young man I travelled to India and got sick, as you do. I wrote this then.)

20121214

Not hard to believe it

Earthly things seem to me like a day dream,
Like a cornfield lives men sway before me.
O loving God, you're my Lord,
Your Christ is my love and I rest on your Word.

Sinners dance in a trance all their life time,
Grace from the Spirit could save them from their crime.
With him we may mount and ride
Pilgrims to heaven, your Word is our guide.

The Widow's Mite

The widow's might
Might be but a mite,
But oh that we might do the same.
If our mite was our might
And our might was given as a mite,
Then how mighty might we be.