Scripture Verse

By terrible things in righteousness wilt Thou answer us, O God of our salvation; Who art the confidence of all the ends of the earth, and of them that are afar off upon the sea. Psalm 65:5


Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

Words: Is­aac Watts, The Psalms of Da­vid 1719. Di­vine pro­vi­dence in air, earth and sea; or, the God of na­ture and grace.

Music: Lou­van Vir­gil C. Tay­lor, Cho­ral An­thems (Bos­ton, Mas­sa­chu­setts: 1850) (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a good pho­to of Tay­lor (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),


The God of our sal­va­tion hears
The groans of Si­on mixed with tears;
Yet when He comes with kind de­signs,
Through all the way His ter­ror shines.

On Him the race of man de­pends,
Far as the earth’s re­mot­est ends,
Where the Cre­at­or’s name is known
By na­ture’s fee­ble light alone.

Sailors, that tra­vel o’er the flood,
Address their fright­ed souls to God,
When tem­pests rage and bil­lows roar
At dread­ful dist­ance from the shore.

He bids the noi­sy tem­pests cease;
He calms the rag­ing crowd to peace,
When a tu­mul­tu­ous na­tion raves
Wild as the winds, and loud as waves.

Whole king­doms, shaken by the storm,
He set­tles in a peace­ful form;
Mountains es­tab­lished by His hand
Firm on their old foun­da­tions stand.

Behold His en­signs sweep the sky,
New co­mets blaze, and light­nings fly;
The hea­then lands with swift sur­prise,
From the bright hor­rors turn their eyes.

At His com­mand the morn­ing ray
Smiles in the east, and leads the day;
He guides the sun’s de­clin­ing wheels
Over the tops of west­ern hills.

Seasons and times ob­ey His voice;
The ev­ening and the morn re­joice
To see the earth made soft with show­ers,
Laden with fruit and dressed in flow­ers.

’Tis from His wa­te­ry stores on high
He gives the thirs­ty ground sup­ply;
He walks up­on the clouds, and thence
Doth His en­rich­ing drops dis­pense.

The de­sert grows a fruit­ful field,
Abundant food the val­leys yield;
The val­leys shout with cheer­ful voice,
And neigh­bor­ing hills re­peat their joys.

The pas­tures smile in green ar­ray;
There lambs and larg­er cat­tle play;
The larg­er cattle and the lamb
Each in His lang­uage speaks Thy name.

Thy works pro­nounce Thy pow­er di­vine;
O’er ev­ery field Thy glo­ries shine;
Through ev­ery month Thy gifts ap­pear;
Great God, Thy good­ness crowns the year.