Shout to Jehovah, in ancient time

1Shout to Jehovah, in ancient time,
The psalmist's sacred harp was strung,
Whose blessed sound in songs sublime,
And prophets praised with glowing tongue.

2Not now on Zion's high alone
Thy favored worshipers may dwell,
Nor where, at sultry noon, thy Son
Sat weary by the patriarch's well.

3From every place below the skies,
The grateful song, the fervent prayer—
The incense of the heart—may rise
To heaven, and find acceptance there.

4To thee shall age, with snowy hair,
And strength, and beauty, bend the knee,
And childhood lisp with reverent air
Its praises and its prayers to thee.