Shepherds, Rejoice!

Even though it’s not strictly a Christmas carol, Isaac Watts’ ’Joy to the World’ is familiar to many. The one below by him is not so well known. I like that it tells a story of sorts. The first two stanzas are spoken by the angel Gabriel, then comes the response of the heavenly choir in stanza three, followed by our call to praise in stanza four.

‘Shepherds, rejoice! lift up your eyes

And send your fears away;

News from the region of the skies:

Salvation’s born today!

Jesus, the God whom angels fear,

Comes down to dwell with you;

Today he makes his entrance here,

But not as monarchs do.

‘No gold, nor purple swaddling bands,

Nor royal shining things;

A manger for his cradle stands,

And holds the King of kings.

Go, shepherds, where the Infant lies,

And see his humble throne;

With tears of joy in all your eyes,

Go, shepherds, kiss the Son.’

Thus Gabriel sang, and straight around

The heavenly armies throng;

They tune their harps to lofty sound

And thus conclude the song:

‘Glory to God that reigns above,

Let peace surround the earth;

Mortals shall know their Maker’s love

At their Redeemer's birth.’

Lord! and shall angels have their songs

And men no tunes to raise?

O may we lose these useless tongues

When they forget to praise!

‘Glory to God that reigns above,

That pitied us forlorn!’

We join to sing our Maker’s love,

For there’s a Saviour born.

Words by Isaac Watts (1674–1748).

Isaac Watts (Born 17 July 1674)

I’ve just been made aware – and can’t let the moment go past without writing a brief note – that today is the 350th anniversary of the birth of Isaac Watts: minister, scholar, linguist, theologian, and often referred to as ‘the father of English hymnody’.

He is perhaps most well-known for ‘When I Survey the Wondrous Cross’, but was also the author of the brilliant ‘Joy to the World’ (based on Psalm 98) and ‘Jesus Shall Reign Where’er the Sun’ (based on Psalm 72). Apparently, this last one was sung in Edinburgh Waverley Station when Eric Liddell set out to serve in China.

Jesus Shall Reign

For this year’s Easter Sunday…

One of my favourite hymns (with more than the standard five or six stanzas we’re familiar with) from one of my favourite hymn writers (Isaac Watts), based on one of my favourite psalms (72).

Jesus shall reign where’er the sun

Does his successive journeys run;

His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,

Till moons shall wax and wane no more.

Behold the islands with their kings,

And Europe her best tribute brings;

From north to south the princes meet,

To pay their homage at His feet.

There Persia, glorious to behold,

There India shines in eastern gold;

And barb’rous nations at His word

Submit, and bow, and own their Lord.

To Him shall endless prayer be made,

And praises throng to crown His head;

His Name like sweet perfume shall rise

With every morning sacrifice.

People and realms of every tongue

Dwell on His love with sweetest song;

And infant voices shall proclaim

Their early blessings on His Name.

Blessings abound wherever He reigns;

The prisoner leaps to lose his chains;

The weary find eternal rest,

And all the sons of want are blessed.

Where He displays His healing power,

Death and the curse are known no more:

In Him the tribes of Adam boast

More blessings than their father lost.

Let every creature rise and bring

Peculiar honours to our King;

Angels descend with songs again,

And earth repeat the loud amen!

Great God, whose universal sway

The known and unknown worlds obey,

Now give the kingdom to Thy Son,

Extend His power, exalt His throne.

The sceptre well becomes His hands;

All Heav’n submits to His commands;

His justice shall avenge the poor,

And pride and rage prevail no more.

With power He vindicates the just,

And treads th’oppressor in the dust:

His worship and His fear shall last

Till hours, and years, and time be past.

As rain on meadows newly mown,

So shall He send his influence down:

His grace on fainting souls distills,

Like heav’nly dew on thirsty hills.

The heathen lands, that lie beneath

The shades of overspreading death,

Revive at His first dawning light;

And deserts blossom at the sight.

The saints shall flourish in His days,

Dressed in the robes of joy and praise;

Peace, like a river, from His throne

Shall flow to nations yet unknown.

Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

I’ll Praise My Maker While I’ve Breath

For the Love of God, Volume 1 (Wheaton: Crossway, 1998) is a series of daily reflections by D.A. Carson based on the Bible reading scheme of Robert Murray M’Cheyne. Carson notes that one of the psalms for today (Psalm 146) inspired the following hymn by Isaac Watts, which I haven’t sung for years but which I think is wonderful.

I’ll praise my Maker while I’ve breath,

And when my voice is lost in death,

Praise shall employ my nobler pow’rs;

My days of praise shall ne’er be past,

While life and thought and being last,

Or immortality endures.

Why should I make a man my trust?

Princes must die and turn to dust;

Vain is the help of flesh and blood:

Their breath departs, their pomp and pow’r

And thoughts all vanish in an hour,

Nor can they make their promise good.

How happy they whose hopes rely

On Israel’s God, Who made the sky

And earth and seas with all their train:

His truth forever stands secure;

He saves th’ oppressed, He feeds the poor,

And none shall find His promise vain.

The Lord gives eyesight to the blind;

The Lord supports the sinking mind;

He sends the lab’ring conscience peace;

He helps the stranger in distress,

The widow, and the fatherless,

And grants the pris’ner sweet release.

He loves His saints, He knows them well,

But turns the wicked down to hell;

Thy God, O Zion! ever reigns:

Let every tongue, let every age,

In this exalted work engage;

Praise Him in everlasting strains.

I’ll praise Him while He lends me breath,

And when my voice is lost in death,

Praise shall employ my nobler pow’rs;

My days of praise shall ne’er be past,

While life and thought and being last,

Or immortality endures.

Isaac Watts (1674-1748) 

Shepherds, Rejoice!

I’ve been reading a book on Isaac Watts recently, and wanted to post one of his carols for Christmas day. His ‘Joy to the World’ is familiar to many, but the one below is not so well known. I like that it tells a story of sorts. The first two stanzas are spoken by the angel Gabriel, then comes the response of the heavenly choir in stanza 3, followed by our call to praise in stanza 4.

‘Shepherds, rejoice! lift up your eyes

And send your fears away;

News from the region of the skies:

Salvation’s born today!

Jesus, the God whom angels fear,

Comes down to dwell with you;

Today he makes his entrance here,

But not as monarchs do.

‘No gold, nor purple swaddling bands,

Nor royal shining things;

A manger for his cradle stands,

And holds the King of kings.

Go, shepherds, where the Infant lies,

And see his humble throne;

With tears of joy in all your eyes,

Go, shepherds, kiss the Son.’

Thus Gabriel sang, and straight around

The heavenly armies throng;

They tune their harps to lofty sound

And thus conclude the song:

‘Glory to God that reigns above,

Let peace surround the earth;

Mortals shall know their Maker’s love

At their Redeemer's birth.’

Lord! and shall angels have their songs

And men no tunes to raise?

O may we lose these useless tongues

When they forget to praise!

‘Glory to God that reigns above,

That pitied us forlorn!’

We join to sing our Maker’s love,

For there’s a Saviour born.

Words by Isaac Watts (1674-1748).

Jesus Shall Reign

For this year’s Easter Sunday...

One of my favourite hymns (with more than the standard 5 or 6 stanzas we’re used to) from one of my favourite hymn writers (Isaac Watts), based on one of my favourite Psalms (72).

Jesus shall reign where’er the sun

Does his successive journeys run;

His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,

Till moons shall wax and wane no more.

Behold the islands with their kings,

And Europe her best tribute brings;

From north to south the princes meet,

To pay their homage at His feet.

There Persia, glorious to behold,

There India shines in eastern gold;

And barb’rous nations at His word

Submit, and bow, and own their Lord.

To Him shall endless prayer be made,

And praises throng to crown His head;

His Name like sweet perfume shall rise

With every morning sacrifice.

People and realms of every tongue

Dwell on His love with sweetest song;

And infant voices shall proclaim

Their early blessings on His Name.

Blessings abound wherever He reigns;

The prisoner leaps to lose his chains;

The weary find eternal rest,

And all the sons of want are blessed.

Where He displays His healing power,

Death and the curse are known no more:

In Him the tribes of Adam boast

More blessings than their father lost.

Let every creature rise and bring

Peculiar honors to our King;

Angels descend with songs again,

And earth repeat the loud amen!

Great God, whose universal sway

The known and unknown worlds obey,

Now give the kingdom to Thy Son,

Extend His power, exalt His throne.

The sceptre well becomes His hands;

All Heav’n submits to His commands;

His justice shall avenge the poor,

And pride and rage prevail no more.

With power He vindicates the just,

And treads th’oppressor in the dust:

His worship and His fear shall last

Till hours, and years, and time be past.

As rain on meadows newly mown,

So shall He send his influence down:

His grace on fainting souls distills,

Like heav’nly dew on thirsty hills.

The heathen lands, that lie beneath

The shades of overspreading death,

Revive at His first dawning light;

And deserts blossom at the sight.

The saints shall flourish in His days,

Dressed in the robes of joy and praise;

Peace, like a river, from His throne

Shall flow to nations yet unknown.

Isaac Watts, 1674-1748

Sweet is the Work, My God, My King

Funny how the mind works some times – well, my mind anyway. I’m currently thinking about ‘shalom’, preparing for a talk I have to do in November on that topic. That got me thinking about ‘harmony’, which led me remember the tune ‘Deep Harmony’ which most often goes with the words to the Isaac Watts’ hymn, ‘Sweet is the work, My God, my King’ – one of my favourites – which we used to sing in the church where I enjoyed my formative years as a young Christian.

I looked up the hymn and saw it has a few more verses than we used to sing, including the strongly-worded fourth stanza below, which (it would appear) not even Strict Baptists could bring themselves to sing.

Sweet is the work, my God, my King,

To praise Thy Name, give thanks and sing,

To show Thy love by morning light

And talk of all Thy truth at night.

Sweet is the day of sacred rest,

No mortal cares shall seize my breast.

O may my heart in tune be found,

Like David’s harp of solemn sound!

My heart shall triumph in my Lord

And bless His works and bless His Word.

Thy works of grace, how bright they shine!

How deep Thy counsels, how divine!

Fools never raise their thoughts so high;

Like brutes they live, like brutes they die;

Like grass they flourish, till Thy breath

Blast them in everlasting death.

But I shall share a glorious part,

When grace has well refined my heart;

And fresh supplies of joy are shed,

Like holy oil, to cheer my head.

Sin (my worst enemy before)

Shall vex my eyes and ears no more;

My inward foes shall all be slain,

Nor Satan break my peace again.

Then shall I see, and hear, and know

All I desired and wished below;

And every power find sweet employ

In that eternal world of joy.

And then what triumphs shall I raise

To Thy dear Name through endless days,

For in the realms of joy I’ll see

Thy face in full felicity

Isaac Watts (1719), author of last stanza unknown.

Joy to the World!

Taking his inspiration from Psalm 98, Isaac Watts (1674-1748), wrote this hymn about Christ’s second coming at the end of the age rather than his birth; but it still remains one of my favourite carols.

Joy to the world! the Lord is come;
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare him room,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven and nature sing,
And heaven, and heaven, and nature sing.

Joy to the Earth! the Saviour reigns;
Let men their songs employ;
While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat, repeat the sounding joy.

No more let sins and sorrows grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make his blessings flow
Far as the curse is found,
Far as the curse is found,
Far as, far as, the curse is found.

He rules the world with truth and grace,
And makes the nations prove
The glories of his righteousness,
And wonders of his love,
And wonders of his love,
And wonders, and wonders, of his love.