Evangelical hymns

ISAAC WATTS PSALMS AND HYMNS (1729)

Honor to magistrates; or, Government from God.
Eternal Sovereign of the sky,
And Lord of all below;
We mortals to thy majesty
Our first obedience owe.
Our souls adore thy throne supreme,
And bless thy providence,
For magistrates of meaner name,
Our glory and defence.
[The crowns of British princes shine
With rays above the rest,
Where laws and liberties combine
To make the nation blest.]
Kingdoms on firm foundations stand,
While virtue finds reward;
And sinners perish from the land
By justice and the sword.
Let Caesar's due be ever paid
To Caesar and his throne;
But consciences and souls were made
To be the Lord's alone.
PSALM 115
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.

[From Raphael Samuel, ed., Patriotism. The Making and Unmaking of British National Identity, Routledge, London
and New York, 1989]
[19th century]
Loud let the Gospel trumpet blow
And call the nations from afar!
Let all the isles their Saviour know,
And earths remotest ends draw near.
Let Babylons proud altars shake,
And light invade her darkest gloom;
The yoke of iron bondage brake;
The yoke of Satan and of Rome.
With gentle beams on Britain shine
And bless her rulers and her priests;
And by thy energy divine,
Let sacred love inspire their breasts.
[Sunday School hymn; mid-19th century]
Tis to thy sovereign grace I owe
That I was born on British ground
Where streams of heavenly mercy flow
And words of sweet salvation sound.
I would not change my native land
For rich Peru with all her gold;
A nobler prize lies in my hand
Than East and Western Indies hold.
[May 1848 Reverend Hugh Stowell, rector of Christ Church, Salford exhortation to the
members of the Protestant Association]
Do not trace to Ireland that which should be traced to the shore of the Tiber. Rememeber that you
do a great injustice to Ireland if you set down her crime, her misery, her degradation, her
ingratitude, her restlessness, her perpetual beggary and woe, to the people to the country to the
blood, or to anything or everything but Popery Popery Popery.