Come Praise The Lord Ye Tuneful Bands
Come praise the Lord, ye tuneful bands,
Ye saints assembled in his name;
New streams of joy your God demands,
New mercies all your praises claim.
Let Israel’s tribes, with blessings crown’d,
Their God, their mighty Maker sing;
Ans Sion’s sons with joy resound
The endless glories of their king.
His name the measur’d dance shall guide,
And joy and sacred mirth inspire;
His name shall o’er the song preside,
And tune the sweet, the charming lyre.
He bends complacent to your praise,
Your God approves the blest employ;
The thankful meek, his love will raise
To crowns of everlasting joy.
O let the saints aloud rejoice,
And sounds of glory fill the song;
All day let rapture tune their voice,
and night the blissful strain prolong.
Let ev’ry mouth be fill’d with praise,
The God of heav’n their awful theme;
Whilst his resistless sword displays,
In heav’n-taught hands, his dreadful name.
Bright terrors wait his high commands,
When justice waves the flaming sword,
Vindictive o’er the heathen lands,
Which hate his saints and scorn his word.
While haughty princes bound in chains,
Confess the just, the pow’rful God;
Let awful joy in warlike strains,
Proclaim his glorious acts abroad.
His hand, thus righteously severe,
Fulfills the threat’nings of his word;
Thus honour’d shall the saints appear;
Adore the great, the glorious Lord.