My peo­ple, give ear, at­tend to My Word,
In pa­ra­bles new deep truths shall be heard;
The won­der­ful sto­ry our fa­thers made known
To child­ren suc­ceed­ing by us must be shown.

Instructing our sons we glad­ly re­cord
The prais­es, the works, the might of the Lord,
For He hath com­mand­ed that what He hath done
Be passed in tra­di­tion from fa­ther to son.

Let child­ren thus learn from his­to­ry’s light
To hope in our God and walk in His sight,
The God of their fa­thers to fear and ob­ey,
And ne’er like their fa­thers to turn from His way.

The story be told, to warn and re­strain,
Of hearts that were hard, re­bel­li­ous, and vain,
Of sol­diers who fal­tered when bat­tle was near,
Who kept not God’s co­ve­nant nor walked in His fear.

God’s won­der­ful works to them He had shown,
His mar­vel­ous deeds their fa­thers had known;
He made for their path­way the wa­ters di­vide,
His glo­ri­ous pil­lar of cloud was their guide.

He gave them to drink, re­liev­ing their thirst,
And forth from the rock caused wa­ter to burst;
Yet faith­less they tempt­ed their God, and they said,
Can He who gave wa­ter sup­ply us with bread?

Jehovah was wroth be­cause they for­got
To hope in their God, and trust­ed Him not;
Yet gra­cious, He op­ened the doors of the sky
And rained down the man­na in rich­est sup­ply.

With bread from on high their need He sup­plied,
And more did He do when thank­less they sighed;
The strong winds com­mand­ing from south and from east
He sent them abun­dance of quail for their feast.

Though well they were filled, their fol­ly they chose;
Till God in His wrath o’er­whelmed them with woes;
He slew of their strong­est and smote their young men,
But still un­be­liev­ing they sinned ev­en then.

Because of their sin He smote with His rod,
And then they re­turned and sought for their God;
Their Rock and Re­deem­er was God the Most high,
Yet false were their prais­es, their pro­mise a lie.

Not right with their God in heart and in will,
They faith­less­ly broke His co­ve­nant still;
But He, in com­pas­sion, re­luc­tant to slay,
Forgave them and oft turned His an­ger away.

His pi­ty was great, though oft­en they sinned,
For they were but flesh, a swift pass­ing wind;
Yet though His com­pas­sion and grace they be­held,
They tempt­ed and grieved Him and oft­en re­belled.

They lim­it­ed God, the Most Ho­ly One,
And hin­dered the work His grace had be­gun;
The hand that was migh­ty to save they for­got,
The day of re­demp­tion re­mem­ber­ing not.

Ungrateful and blind, no long­er they thought
Of won­ders and signs and migh­ty deeds wrought,
Of how all the ri­vers of Egypt ran red,
And plagues in God’s an­ger were heaped on their head.

They thought not of how, their free­dom to gain,
In Egypt’s abodes the first born were slain,
And how all God’s peo­ple were led forth like sheep,
The flock He de­light­ed in safe­ty to keep.

Unharmed through the sea, where per­ished their foe,
He caused them with ease and safe­ty to go;
His ho­ly land gain­ing, in peace they were brought
To dwell in the mount­ain the Lord’s hand had bought.

He gave them the land, a heritage fair;
The nations that dwelt in wickedness there
He drove out before them with great ov­er­throw
And gave to His peo­ple the tents of the foe.

Again they re­belled and tempt­ed the Lord,
Unfaithful, they turned to id­ols ab­horred,
And God in His an­ger with­drew from them then,
No long­er de­light­ing to dwell among men.

He gave them to death in bat­tle, al­though
His glo­ry and strength were scorned by the foe;
Their young men were fall­en, their maid­ens un­wed,
Their priest slain in bat­tle, none wept for the dead.

Then mer­cy awoke, the Lord in His might
Returned, and the foes were scat­tered in flight;
Again to His peo­ple His fa­vor He showed
And chose in Mount Zi­on to fix His abode.

His ser­vant He called, a shep­herd of sheep,
From tend­ing his flock, the peo­ple to keep;
So Da­vid their shep­herd with wis­dom and might
Protected and fed them and led them aright.