Psalm 110

Words: The Psalter of the United Presbyterian Church of North America, 1887 ed.

Note:
This page also has  Common Metre  and Short Metre versions of this psalm.

Long Metre Tunes (LPM - 888 888)
 "Minden"  anoymous, from the 1887 Presbyterian Psalter
   1  Jehovah to my Lord thus spake,
      Till I thy foes thy footstool make,
         Sit thou in state at my right hand;
      God shall from Zion send abroad
      O'er nations all thy mighty rod,
         Amid thy foes thy throne shall stand.
   2  Thee, in thy power's triumphant day,
      The willing nations shall obey;
         And when thy rising beams they view,
      Shall all, redeemed from error's night,
      Appear as numberless and bright
         As crystal drops of morning dew.
   3  The Lord unchanging oath has made,
      "Melchisedec's thy priestly grade;
         In everlasting priesthood crowned;"
      The sovereign Lord, at thy right hand,
      Shall strike through princes of the land,
         While awful anger flames around.
   4  Among the heathen judge he will;
      Unnumbered dead the land shall fill,
         The nations' chief shall smitten lie.
      The brook that runneth in the way,
      His burning thirst shall slake that day,
         And he shall lift his head on high.
Common Metre Tunes
   1  Jehovah to my Lord thus said,
         Sit thou at my right hand,
      Until I make thy foes a stool,
         On which thy feet may stand.
   2  The Lord shall out of Zion send
         The rod of thy great pow'r:
      In midst of all thine enemies
         Be thou the governor.
   3  A willing people in thy day
         Of pow'r shall come to thee,
      In holy beauties from morn's womb;
         Thy youth like dew shall be.
   4  The Lord hath sworn, and from his oath
         He never will depart;
      Of th' order of Melchisedec
         A priest thou ever art.
   5  The glorious and mighty Lord,
         That sits at thy right hand,
      Shall, in his day of wrath, strike through
         The kings that him withstand.
   6  Among the heathen he shall judge
         The nations fill with dead,
      And over all the countries wide
         He wound shall every head.
   7  The brook that runneth in the way
         With drink shall him supply;
      And, for this cause, in triumph he
         Shall lift his head on high.
Short Metre Tunes
   1     The Lord to my Lord said,
         At my right hand sit thou,
      Until I make thy enemies
         Beneath thy feet to bow.
   2     Thy rod of strength the Lord
         Shall out of Zion send,
      And over all thy enemies
         Do thou thy pow'r extend.
   3     And in the day when thou
         Dost thy great power take,
      Thy people shall themselves to thee
         A free-will off'ring make.
   4     In beauteous, holy robes,
         Arrayed they come to thee;
      As dew-drops from the morning womb,
         Thy youth shall ever be.
   5     The Lord an oath hath sworn,
         An oath he will not break:
      Forever like Melchisedec's,
         Thy priesthood I will make.
   6     The sovereign Lord who sits
         At thy right hand as king,
      Shall strike thro' kings in that dread day
         When he shall vengeance bring.
   7     The heathen he shall judge,
         And fill the land with dead;
      He over countries great and wide,
         Shall smite and wound the head.
   8     And in his way, the brook
         His thirst shall satisfy,
      And thus refreshed, the conq'ring Lord
         Shall lift his head on high.


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Page last modified on: 07/29/2004