Scripture Verse

I will sing praise…as long as I live. Psalm 146:1

Introduction

portrait
Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

Words: Is­aac Watts, The Psalms of Da­vid, 1719. Praise to God for His good­ness and truth.

Music: Old 113th at­trib­ut­ed to Mat­thäus Greit­er, Strass­bur­ger Kirch­en­amt, 1525 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tune:

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

Anecdote

[John] Wes­ley gave out this hymn just before preach­ing for the last time in Ci­ty Road Cha­pel, Tues­day ev­en­ing, Feb­ru­ary 22, 1791. The fol­low­ing Mon­day af­ter­noon, though ve­ry ill, he am­azed the friends at his bed­side by sing­ing the hymn through­out in a strong voice.

The next night, his bi­og­raph­er, Ty­er­mann, tells us, he tried scores of times to re­peat the hymn, but could on­ly say I’ll praise—I’ll praise—. And with praise for his Mak­er on his lips and in his heart he passed to that life where im­mor­ta­li­ty en­dures.

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Lyrics

I’ll praise my mak­er with my breath,
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall em­ploy my nob­ler pow­ers;
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 pow­er,
And thoughts all van­ish in an hour,
Nor can they make their pro­mise good.

Happy the man whose hopes re­ly
On Is­ra­el’s God: He made the sky,
And earth, and seas, with all their train:
His truth for ev­er stands se­cure;
He saves th’op­pressed, He feeds the poor,
And none shall find His pro­mise vain.

The Lord has eyes to give the blind;
The Lord sup­ports the sink­ing mind;
He sends the la­bor­ing con­science peace;
He helps the stran­ger in dis­tress,
The wid­ow, and the fa­ther­less,
And grants the pri­son­er 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 pow­ers;
My days of praise shall ne’er be past,
While life and thought and be­ing last,
Or im­mor­ta­li­ty en­dures.