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Isaac Watts - Psalm 115Isaac Watts - Psalm 115
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To the tune of the 50th Psalm. Popish idolatry reproved. A Psalm for the Fifth of November. 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 honors to thy sovereign name: Shine through the earth from heav`n, thy blest abode Nor let the heathens say, "And where`s your God?" Heav`n is thine higher court, there stands thy throne, And through the lower worlds thy will is done; Our God framed all this earth, these heav`ns he spread; But fools adore the gods their hands have made: The kneeling crowd, with looks devout, behold Their silver saviors, and their saints of gold. [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. The rich have statues well adorned with gold; The poor, content with gods of coarser mould, With tools of iron carve the senseless stock, Lopped 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.] Be heav`n and earth amazed! `Tis hard to say Which is more stupid, or their gods or they: O Isr`el, 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 heav`nly shield. O Britain, trust the Lord: thy foes in vain Attempt thy ruin, and oppose his reign; Had they prevailed, darkness had closed our days, And death and silence had forbid his praise: But we are saved, and live; let songs arise, And Britain bless the God that built the skies.
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