Classic Poem

Rejoice in God, ye blithsome lands,
With all your voices all your hands,
Bent knees and faces prone;
With mickle gladness and content
Your goodly songs and selves present
Before his awful throne.

Nought in ourselves but life and limb,
We are the workmanship of him,
He is our God be sure;
Our shepherd too, as well ye ken,
He feeds us congregated men,
Like sheep upon the moor.

O gang your way and gang with glee,
Into his courts with melody,
And do his goodness right.
His gates are not too straight nor strong
To keep out sicke a lively song,
And sicke a menceful sight.

For gracious is the Lord our rest,
Sith by his merits we are blest,
And rescued from our crimes.
And us his just decrees he learns,
For sires to teach their bonny barnes
Through all succeeding times.