The Lord My Pasture Shall Prepare (Psalm 23)

The Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noonday walks he shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.

When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountain pant,
To fertile vales and dewy meads
My weary wandering steps he leads,
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.

Though in a bare and rugged way
Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
The bounty shall my pains beguile;
The barren wilderness shall smile
With sudden greens and herbage crowned,
And streams show murmur all around.

Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill,
For thou, O Lord, art with me still:
Thy friendly staff shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.


-- Joseph Addison (1672-1718), hymn text written 1710, sung to the tune Surrey

Praise to God for Hearing Prayer

Now shall my solemn vows be paid
To that Almighty Power,
That heard the long requests I made
In my distressful hour.

My lips and cheerful heart prepare
To make his mercies known;
Come, ye that fear my God, and hear
The wonders he has done.

When on my head huge sorrows fell,
I sought his heav’nly aid;
He saved my sinking soul from hell,
And death’s eternal shade.

If sin lay covered in my heart,
While prayer employed my tongue,
The Lord had shown me no regard,
Nor I his praises sung.

But God (his name be ever blest)
Has set my spirit free;
Nor turned from him my poor request,
Nor turned his heart from me.

-- Isaac Watts (1674-1748) English theologian, philosopher, teacher, hymn writer and nonconformist, Independent church minister, one of the greatest hymn writers in English history.

Scripture reference Psalm 66:8-20, Easter 6A

Hymn to Christ the Lord

I.

Bridle of colts untamed,
Over our wills presiding;
Wing of unwandering birds,
Our flight securely guiding.
Rudder of youth unbending,
Firm against adverse shock;
Shepherd, with wisdom tending
Lambs of the royal flock:
Thy simple children bring
In one, that they may sing
In solemn lays
Their hymns of praise
With guileless lips to Christ their King.

II.

King of saints, almighty Word
Of the Father highest Lord;
Wisdom’s head and chief;
Assuagement of all grief;
Lord of all time and space,
Jesus, Saviour of our race;
Shepherd, who dost us keep;
Husbandman, who tillest,
Bit to restrain us, Rudder
To guide us as Thou williest;
Of the all-holy flock celestial wing;
Fisher of men, whom Thou to life dost bring;
From evil sea of sin,
And from the billowy strife,
Gathering pure fishes in
Caught with sweet bait of life:
Lead us, Shepherd of the sheep,
Reason-gifted, holy One;
King of youths, whom Thou dost keep,
So that they pollution shun:
Steps of Christ, celestial Way;
Word eternal, Age unending;
Life that never can decay;
Fount of mercy, virtue-sending;
Life august of those who raise
Unto God their hymn of praise,
Jesus Christ!

III.

Nourished by the milk of heaven,
To our tender palates given;
Milk of wisdom from the breast
Of that bride of grace exprest;
By a dewy spirit filled
From fair Reason’s breast distilled;
Let us sucklings join to raise
With pure lips our hymns of praise
As our grateful offering,
Clean and pure, to Christ our King.
Let us, with hearts undefiled,
Celebrate the mighty Child.
We, Christ-born, the choir of peace;
We, the people of His love,
Let us sing, nor ever cease,
To the God of peace above.

-- Clement of Alexandria (150-@215 CE), Greek teacher, philosopher, theologian, and Father of the Church

Scripture Reference: Matthew 21:1-11, Palm Sunday, Lent A

Image: Jesus's Entry Into Jerusalem, fresco, Dionysiou Monastery Mt. Athos

Joy and Peace in Believing (Olney Hymns, XLVIII)

Sometimes a light surprises 

   The Christian while he sings; 

It is the Lord who rises 

    With healing on His wings; 

When comforts are declining, 

   He grants the soul again 

A season of clear shining, 

   To cheer it after rain. 

In holy contemplation 

    We sweetly then pursue 

The theme of God's salvation, 

    And find it ever new; 

Set free from present sorrow, 

    We cheerfully can say, 

E'en let the unknown to-morrow 

    Bring with it what it may! 

It can bring with it nothing, 

    But He will bear us through; 

Who gives the lilies clothing, 

    Will clothe His people too; 

Beneath the spreading heavens 

    No creature but is fed; 

And He who feeds the ravens 

    Will give His children bread. 

Though vine nor fig tree neither 

    Their wonted fruit shall bear, 

Though all the field should wither, 

    Nor flocks nor herds be there: 

Yet God the same abiding, 

    His praise shall tune my voice; 

For, while in Him confiding, 

    I cannot but rejoice.


-- William Cowper (1731-1800), English poet and Anglican hymn writer.

Cowper struggled with tragedy and depression his entire life; his friend John Newton suggested he begin writing hymns as therapy while Cowper was committed to an asylum.

Thy Kingdom Come

Thy kingdom come with power and grace
In every heart of man;
Thy peace and joy and righteousness
In all our bosoms reign!

The righteousness that never ends,
But makes an end of sin;
The joy that human thought transcends,
Now to our souls bring in;

The kingdom of established peace,
Which can no more remove;
The perfect power of Godliness;
The omnipotence of Love!

--Charles Wesley (1707-1788), English priest, hymns, and poets, founder with his brother of the movement eventually known as Methodism. He wrote over 6500 hymns in his lifetime.

Scriptural Reference: Luke 11:1-13, Proper 12C

Morning Hymn

Christ, whose glory fills the skies, 
Christ, the true, the only light,
Sun of Righteousness, arise, 
Triumph o’er the shades of night: 
Day-spring from on high, be near: 
Day-star, in my heart appear.

Dark and cheerless is the morn 
Unaccompanied by thee, 
Joyless is the day’s return, 
Till thy mercy’s beams I see; 
Till thy inward light impart, 
Glad my eyes, and warm my heart. 

Visit then this soul of mine,
Pierce the gloom of sin, and grief, 
Fill me, Radiancy Divine, 
Scatter all my unbelief, 
More and more thyself display, 
Shining to the perfect day.

- Charles Wesley (17907-1788), Anglican priest, poet, and musician, and one of the founders of Methodism

Related Scripture: Psalm 15, Epiphany 4A

Lift Ev'ry Voice and Sing

Lift ev'ry voice and sing, 
Till earth and heaven ring, 
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty; 
Let our rejoicing rise 
High as the list'ning skies, 
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea. 
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us, 
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us; 
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun, 
Let us march on till victory is won. 

Stony the road we trod, 
Bitter the chast'ning rod,
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;
Yet with a steady beat,
Have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?
We have come over a way that with tears has been watered.
We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
Out from the gloomy past, 
Till now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

God of our weary years,
God of our silent tears, 
Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way; 
Thou who hast by Thy might, 
Led us into the light, 
Keep us forever in the path, we pray. 
Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee, 
Lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee; 
Shadowed beneath Thy hand, 
May we forever stand, 
True to our God, 
True to our native land.

--James Weldon Johnson (1871-1938), African American poet, writer, professor, diplomat, and Executive Secretary of the NAACP, from the Hymnal 1982 of the Episcopal Church

Caedmon's Hymn

Nu sculon herigean      heofonrices Weard 
Meotodes meahte      and his modgepanc, 
weorc Wuldor-Fæder,      swa he wundra gehwæs 
ece Drihten      or onstealde 
He ærest sceop      ielda bearnum 
Heofon to hrofe      halig Scyppend 
ða middangeard      moncynnes Weard, 
ece Drihten      æfter teode 
firum foldan      Frea ælmihtig

Now we ought to praise     the Guardian of the heavenly kingdom,
The might of the Creator     and his conception,
The work of the glorious Father,     as he of each of the wonders,
Eternal Lord,     established the beginning.
He first created     for the sons of men
Heaven as a roof,     holy Creator;
Then the middle-earth,     the Guardian of mankind,
The eternal Lord,     afterwards made
The earth for men,     the Lord almighty.

--Caedmon ( 7th Century CE) monk of Whitby and former cowherd who was commanded in a dream to "sing to me the beginning of all things," acclaimed as one of the greatest English poets of his age by the Venerable Bede, written between 658 and 680 CE, translated from Old English by Elaine Traherne.

A different translation is offered here:

Praise we the fashioner now of Heaven's fabric,
The majesty of his might and his mind's wisdom,
Work of the world-warden, worker of all wonders,
How he the Lord of Glory everlasting
wrought first for the race of men Heaven as a roof-tree,
Then made he middle-earth to be their mansion.


Photo: Whitby Abbey ruins, Whitby, from the British Library

Wise Men Seeking Jesus

Wise Men seeking Jesus
     Traveled from afar,
Guided on their journey
     By a beauteous star.
But if we desire Him,
     He is close at hand;
For our native country
     Is our Holy Land.

Prayerful souls may find Him
     By our quiet lakes,
Meet Him on our hillsides
     Where the morning breaks.
In our fertile cornfields,
     While the sheaves are bound,
In our busy markets
     Jesus may be found.

Every peaceful village
     In our land might be,
Made by Jesus' presence
     Like sweet Bethany.
He is more than near us,
     If we love him well;
For He seeketh ever
     In our hearts to dwell.

--James East (1860-1937), English Methodist pastor, poet, and hymnwriter

In Him Confiding

Sometimes a light surprises
     A Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord who rises
     With healing on His wings.
When comforts are declining
     He grant the soul again
A season of clear shining,
To cheer it after the rain.

In holy contemplation
     We sweetly then pursue
The theme of God's salvation,
     and find it ever new.
Set free from present sorrow,
     We cheerfully can say,
Let the unknown to-morrow
     Bring with it what it may.

It can bring with it nothing
     But He will bear us through;
Who gives the lilies,
     Will clothe His people too.
Beneath the spreading heavens
     No creation but is fed;
And he who feeds the ravens
     Will give his children bread.

Though vine nor fig tree neither
     Their wonted fruit should bear,
Though all the fields should wither,
     Nor flocks nor herds be there;
Yet God the same abiding,
     His praise shall tune my voice;
For while in Him confiding,
     I cannot but rejoice.

--William Cowper (1731-1800), English poet and hymnwriter, friend of John Newton, and influence on English Romantic poets

Allusion to Luke 12:22-32 in stanza 3; Isaiah 34:4 in stanza 4

Epiphany Hymn

Most High God!
Thou that enkindlest
the fires of the shining stars!
O Jesus! Thou that art peace and life and light and truth,
hear and grant our prayers.

This present day has been made holy
by thy mystic baptism,
whereby thou didst sanctify
those waters of the Jordan,
which of old were thrice turned back.

It is holy by the star shining in the heavens,
whereby thou didst announce
thy Virginal Mother's delivery
and didst, on the same day,
lead the Magi to adore thee in thy crib.

It is holy too,
by thy changing the water
of the pitchers into wine;
which the steward of the feast, 
knowing that he had not so filled them,
drew forth for the guests.

Glory be to thee, O Lord Jesus,
that didst appear on this Day!
And to the Father and to the Holy Spirit,
for everlasting ages.
Amen.

--Hymn of St. Ambrose (338-397), bishop of Milan

In the Bleak Midwinter

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day,
Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,
The ox and ass and camel which adore.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.

What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.

--Christina Rosetti (1830-1894), English poet and supporter of the Oxford Movement

Many and Great (Dakota Hymn)

Many and great, O God, are thy works,
maker of earth and sky;
thy hands have set the heavens with stars;
thy fingers spread the mountains and plains.
Lo, at thy word the waters were formed;
deep seas obey thy voice.

Grant unto us communion with thee,
thou star-abiding one;
come unto us and dwell with us;
with thee are found the gifts of life.
Bless us with life that has no end,
eternal life with thee.

Wakantanka taku nitawa
tankaya qaota;
mahpiya kin eyehnake ca,
makakin he duowanca.
Mniowanca sbeya wanke cin,
hena ovakihi.

--Lacquiparle by Joseph r. Renville (1942) paraphrased by R. Phillip Frazier (1929). Alt. Hymnal 1982, Hymn 385, from Daily Prayer for All Seasons, published by the General Convention of the Episcopal Church, 2014, p. 120.


Photo: The Milky Way above Monument Valley.

Called by Love

Great God, your love has called us here
as we, by love, for love were made.
Your living likeness still we bear,
though marred, dishonored, disobeyed.
    We come with all our heart and mind,
    your call to hear, your heart to find.

-- Brian A. Wren (1936- ), British hymnist

O God Our Help in Ages Past

O God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home.

Under the shadow of Thy throne
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is Thine arm alone,
And our defense is sure.

Before the hills in order stood,
Or earth received her frame,
From everlasting Thou art God,
To endless years the same.

Thy Word commands our flesh to dust,
“Return, ye sons of men”:
All nations rose from earth at first,
And turn to earth again.

A thousand ages in Thy sight
Are like an evening gone;
Short as the watch that ends the night
Before the rising sun.

The busy tribes of flesh and blood,
With all their lives and cares,
Are carried downwards by the flood,
And lost in foll’wing years.

Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the op’ning day.

Like flow’ry fields the nations stand
Pleased with the morning light;
The flow’rs beneath the mower’s hand
Lie with’ring ere ’tis night.

O God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be Thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home.

--Isaac Watts (1674-1748),  English hymn writer and Noncomforming pastor, Hymn 680 in Hymnal 1982

When I Survey the Wondrous Cross

When I survey the wondrous cross
On which the Prince of glory died,
My richest gain I count but loss,
And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
Save in the death of Christ my God!
All the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,
Sorrow and love flow mingled down!
Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,
Or thorns compose so rich a crown?

His dying crimson, like a robe,
Spreads o’er His body on the tree;
Then I am dead to all the globe,
And all the globe is dead to me.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were a present far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

--Isaac Watts (1674-1748),  English hymn writer and Noncomforming pastor, Hymn 474 in Hymnal 1982