Psalm 115

The Psalms of David Imitated · Isaac Watts

Psalm 115:1. First Metre. The true God our refuge; or, Idolatry reproved.

1 Not to ourselves, who are but dust,
Not to ourselves is glory due,
Eternal God, thou only just,
Thou only gracious, wise, and true.

2 Shine forth in all thy dreadful Name;
Why should a heathen's haughty tongue
Insult us, and to raise our shame
Say, "Where's the God you've serv'd so long?"

3 The God we serve maintains his throne
Above the clouds, beyond the skies,
Thro' all the earth his will is done,
He knows our groans, he hears our cries.

4 But the vain idols they adore
Are senseless shapes of stone and wood;
At best a mass of glittering ore,
A silver saint, or golden god.

5 [With eyes, and ears they carve their head,
Deaf are their ears, their eyes are blind;
In vain are costly offerings made,
And vows are scatter'd in the wind.

6 Their feet were never made to move,
Nor hands to save when mortals pray;
Mortals that pay them fear or love
Seem to be blind and deaf as they.]

7 O Israel, make the Lord thy hope,
Thy help, thy refuge, and thy rest;
The Lord shall build thy ruins up,
And bless the people and the priest.

8 The dead no more can speak thy praise,
They dwell in silence and the grave;
But we shall live to sing thy grace,
And tell the world thy power to save.

Psalm 115:2. Second Metre. As the new tune of the 50th Psalm. Popish idolatry reproved.

A psalm for the 5th of November.

1 Not to our names, thou only Just and True,
Not to our worthless names is glory due;
Thy power and grace, thy truth and justice claim
Immortal honours to thy sovereign Name:
Shine thro' the earth from heaven, thy blest abode,
Nor let the heathens say, "And where's your God?"

2 Heaven is thine higher court; there stands thy throne,
And thro' the lower worlds thy will is done:
Our God fram'd all this earth, these heavens he spread,
But fools adore the gods their hands have made:
The kneeling crowd, with looks devout, behold
Their silver saviours, and their saints of gold.

3 [Vain are those artful shapes of eyes and ears;
The molten image neither sees nor hears:
Their hands are helpless, nor their feet can move,
They have no speech, nor thought, nor power, nor love;
Yet sottish mortals make their long complaints
To their deaf idols, and their moveless saints.

4 The rich have statues well adorn'd with gold;
The poor, content with gods of coarser mould,
With tools of iron carve the senseless stock,
Lopt from a tree, or broken from a rock:
People and priest drive on the solemn trade,
And trust the gods that saws and hammers made.]

5 Be heaven and earth amaz'd! 'Tis hard to say
Which is more stupid, or their gods or they:
O Israel, trust the Lord, he hears and sees,
He knows thy sorrows, and restores thy peace:
His worship does a thousand comforts yield,
He is thy help, and he thy heavenly shield.

6 O Britain, trust the Lord: thy foes in vain
Attempt thy ruin, and oppose his reign;
Had they prevail'd, darkness had clos'd our days,
And death and silence had forbid his praise;
But we are sav'd, and live: let songs arise,
And Britain bless the God that built the skies.

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