mainheader
echo '
';

rp Search Options

Hymn/Song Information

Forever blessed be God the Lord who does




Forever blessed be God the Lord,
who does his needful aid impart,
At once both strength and skill afford
to wield my arms with warlike art.


His goodness is my fort and tow'r,
my strong deliv'rance and my shield
In him I trust, whose matchless pow'r
makes to my sway fierce nations yield.


Lord, what's in man, that thou should'st love
of him such tender care to take?
What in his offspring could thee move
such great account of him to make?


The life of man does quickly fade,
his thoughts but empty are and vain;
His days are like a flying shade,
of whose short stay no signs remain.


In solemn state, O God, descend,
whilst heav'n its lofty head inclines;
The smoking hills asunder rend,
of thy approach the awful signs.


Discharge thy dreadful lightnings round,
and make my scattered foes retreat;
Them with thy pointed arrows wound,
and their destruction soon complete.


Do thou, O Lord, from heav'n engage
thy boundless pow'r my foes to quell,
And snatch me from the stormy rage
Of threat'ning waves, that proudly swell.


Fight thou against my foreign foes,
who utter speeches false and vain;
Who, tho' in solemn leagues they close,
their sworn engagements ne’er maintain.


So I to thee, O King of kings,
in joyful hymns my voice shall raise;
And instruments of various strings
shall help me thus to sing thy praise.


"God does to kings his aid afford,
to them his sure salvation sends;
Tis he that from the murd'ring sword
his servant David still defends."


Fight thou against my foreign foes,
who utter speeches false and vain;
Who, tho' in solemn leagues they close,
their sworn engagements ne'er maintain.


Then our young sons like trees shall grow,
well planted in some fruitful place;
Our daughters shall like pillars show,
designed some royal court to grace.


Our garners, filled with various store,
shall us and our's with plenty feed;
Our sheep, increasing more and more,
shall thousands and ten thousands breed.


Strong shall our lab'ring oxen grow,
nor in their constant labor faint;
Whilst we no war nor slav'ry know,
and in our streets hear no complaint.


Thrice happy is that people's case,
whose various blessings thus abound;
Who God's true worship still embrace,
and are with his protection crowned.

marker 99
LYRICS
Meter: 8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
Writer(s):
    Trans/Adapted:
      Dates: 1696
      Bible Refs: Ps 144;
      LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
      Hymn/Song Book Year Song #
      1821# 144
      echo '
      ';
      If I have omitted copyright on any items, or if there are errors, please e-mail me with details and I will gladly update my records.

      This page has had 169 visits
      eye-catcher
      Designed and managed by:
      nbp