Psalms 50:1

• [Psa 50:1] Lord Our God Is Clothed With Might, The

  The Lord our God is clothed with might, The winds obey His will; He speaks, and in His heavenly height, He speaks, and in His heavenly height, The rolling sun stands still. Rebel, ye waves, and o’er the land With threatening aspect roar; The Lord uplifts His awful hand, The Lord uplifts His awful hand, And chains you to the shore. Ye winds of night, your force combine; Without His high behest, Ye shall not, in the mountain pine, Ye shall not, in the mountain pine, Disturb the sparrow’s rest. His voice sublime is heard afar; In distant peals it dies; He yokes the whirlwind to His car, He yokes the whirlwind to His car, And sweeps the howling skies. Ye nations, bend, in reverence bend; Ye monarchs, wait His nod; And bid the choral song ascend And bid the choral song ascend To celebrate our God.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Psa 50:1] Mighty God, Je­ho­vah, Speaks, The

  The mighty God, Jehovah, speaks And calls the earth from sea to sea; From beauteous Zion God shines forth, He comes and will not silent be; Devouring flame before Him goes, And dark the tempest round Him grows. He calls aloud to Heaven and earth That He may justly judge His own: My chosen saints together bring Who sacrifice to Me alone; The heav’ns His righteousness declare, For God Himself as Judge is there. Hear, O My people, I will speak, Against thee I will testify; Give ear to Me, O Israel, For God, thy covenant God, am I; I do not spurn thy sacrifice, Thy offerings are before My eyes. I will receive from out thy fold No offering for My holy shrine; The cattle on a thousand hills And all the forest beasts are Mine; Each mountain bird to Me is known, Whatever roams the field I own. Behold, if I should hungry grow, I would not tell My need to thee, For all the world itself is Mine, And all its wealth belongs to Me; Why should I aught of thee receive, My thirst or hunger to relieve? Bring thou to God the gifts of thanks, And pay thy vows to God Most High; Call ye upon My holy Name In days when sore distress is nigh; Deliverance I will send to thee, And praises thou shalt give to Me.

  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Psa 50:1] Mighty God, The Lord, The

  The mighty God, the Lord, hath spoken unto all; From rising to the setting sun, He unto earth doth call. From Zion, His own hill, where perfect beauty dwells, Jehovah hath His glory shown, in brightness that excels. Our God shall surely come, and silence shall not keep; Before Him fire shall waste, and storms tempestuous round Him sweep. He to the heav’ns above shall then send forth His call, And likewise to the earth that He may judge His people all. “Together let My saints unto Me gathered be, Those that by sacrifice have made a covenant with Me.” Then shall the heav’ns declare His righteousness abroad; Because the Lord Himself is Judge, yea, none is judge, but God.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

Psalms 68:13

• [Psa 68:13] White As The Wings Of A Dove

  Yet shall ye be as a dove’s shining wings, Covered with silver and gold; Gracious assurance the Word ever brings, Promise of beauty untold. Refrain Shine on us, Savior, oh, shed forth Thy love; Make us as white as the wings of a dove; Shine on us, Savior, oh, shed forth Thy love; Make us as white as the wings of a dove. What tho’ our tent-homes are covered with dust, While thro’ life’s desert we move; Time cometh when they shall flutter, we trust, White as the wings of a dove. Refrain What tho’ our garments like leprosy cling, Robes of self-righteousness wove; Praises to Jesus! for yet we may sing, Clad as the wings of a dove. Refrain What tho’ we lie ’midst the filth of the earth, Or as a prodigal rove; We may come up from the Spirit’s new birth, Clean as the wings of a dove. Refrain What tho’ for years we have wandered in sin, And ’gainst the Good Spirit strove; Thro’ Heaven’s portals we yet may go in, Pure as the wings of a dove. Refrain

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  source: Cyberhymnal

Psalms 69:15

• [Psa 69:15] O God, Who Metest In Thy Hand

  O God, who metest in Thine hand The waters of the mighty sea, And barrest ocean with the sand By Thy perpetual decree: What time the floods lift up their voice And break in anger on the shore, When deep to deep calls with the noise Of waterspouts and billows’ roar; When they who to the sea go down, And in the waters ply their toil, Are lifted on the surge’s crown, And plunged where seething eddies boil; Rule then, O Lord, the ocean’s wrath, And bind the tempest with Thy will; Tread, as of old, the water’s path And speak Thy bidding, “Peace, be still.” So with Thy mercies ever new Thy servants set from peril free, And bring them, Pilot wise and true, Within the port where they would be.

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  source: Cyberhymnal