Hymns 33 and 34.  Psalm 147

         Praise ye the Lord: Oh, blissful theme,

         To sing the honours of his name!

         ’Tis pleasure, ’tis divine delight,

         And praise is lovely in his sight!

         His Salem now the Lord restores;                                                        

         No more her ruin she deplores;

         Again the scatter’d tribes return,

         And Israel’s sons no longer mourn.

         No more their breaking hearts despair,

         He binds their wounds with tender care;                                            

         His healing hand removes their pain,

         And cheerful Comfort smiles again.

         He counts the host of starry flames,

         Knows all their nature and their names;

         Great is our God! his wonderous power                                              

         And boundless wisdom we adore.

         How gracious is the Lord! how kind!

         To raise the meek dejected mind;

         But awful terrors in his frown

         Shall cast rebellious sinners down.                                                                  

         Sing to the Lord, let praise inspire

         The grateful voice, the tuneful lyre;

         In strains of joy, proclaim abroad

         The endless glories of our God.

         He veils the sky with treasur’d showers;                                             

         On earth the plenteous blessing pours;

         The mountains smile in lively green,

         And fairer blooms the flowery scene.

         His bounteous hand, (great spring of good!)

         Provides the brute creation food;                                                         

         He feeds the ravens when they cry;

         All nature lives beneath his eye.

         In nature what can him delight,

         Most lovely in its Maker’s sight?

         Not active strength his favour moves,                                                             

         Nor comely form he best approves.

         Dear to the Lord, for ever dear,

         The heart where he implants his fear;

         The souls who on his grace rely,

         These, these are lovely in his eye.                                                         

         Jerusalem, his honours raise;

         Thy God, O Zion, claims thy praise;

         His mighty arm defends thy gates,

         His blessing on thy children waits.

         Sweet peace, to crown the happy scene,                                              

         O’er thy fair border smiles serene;

         The finest wheat luxuriant grows,

         And joyful plenty round thee flows.

         He speaks! and swiftly from the skies

         To earth the sovereign mandate flies;                                                              

         Observant Nature hears his Word,

         And bows obedient to her Lord.

         Now thick descending flakes of snow,

         O’er earth a fleecy mantle throw;

         Now glittering frost o’er all the plains                                                 

         Extends its universal chains.

         At his fierce storms of icy hail

         The shivering powers of Nature fail;

         Before his cold what life can stand,

         Unshelter’d by his guardian hand?                                                                  

         He speaks! the ice and snows obey,                                         

         And Nature’s fetters melt away;

         Now vernal gales soft rising blow,

         And murmuring waters gently flow.

         But nobler works his grace record:                                                                  

         To Israel he reveals his Word;

         To Jacob’s happy sons alone

         He makes his sacred precepts known.

         Such bliss no other nation shares;

         The laws of Heaven are only theirs;                                                                 

         Ye favour’d tribes, your voices raise,

         And bless your God in songs of praise.

Text: Timothy Whelan, gen. ed., Nonconformist Women Writers, 8 vols. (London: Pickering & Chatto, 2011), vol. 1, pp. 351-54; Collection of Hymns Adapted to Public Worship, nos. 33 (stanzas 6, 4, 7-10) and 34 (stanzas 1, 13-18); Poems, 1780, vol. 2, pp. 249-53; MS, Steele Collection, STE 3/2/1, Angus Library, Regents Park College,  Oxford..