“Oh, Magnify the Lord”

The psalmist says,

Lord, you have been our dwelling place
 in all generations.
Before the mountains were brought forth,
 or ever you had formed the earth and the world,
 from everlasting to everlasting you are God.

You return man to dust
 and say, “Return, O children of man!”
For a thousand years in your sight
 are but as yesterday when it is past,
 or as a watch in the night.[1]

A brief prayer together:

Our Father, we thank you for all that we have enjoyed in the time that has elapsed. And we pray now that as we draw things to a close in this afternoon session, that despite, perhaps, fatigue, despite tiredness, whatever may be our lot, we pray that we might hear from you as we turn again to your Word. And we pray in Christ’s name. Amen.

Well, it is a privilege for me to have a part in this event. And my role, I think, is pretty straightforward. I am not, in this context, here to expound a passage of Scripture, nor am I here to set aside the Scriptures, but rather to follow along from what Keith has done for us and to prepare the way, if you like, for what remains in these next couple of days.

One Generation and Another

Let’s just allow the psalmist to give to us instruction here. Here he says to us,

[Shout] to the Lord, all the earth!
 Serve the Lord with gladness!
 Come into his presence with singing![2]

Oh give thanks to the Lord; call upon his name;
 make known his deeds among the peoples!
Sing to him, sing praises to him;
 tell of all his wondrous works![3]

Oh, magnify the Lord with me,
 and [come,] let us exalt his name together![4]

One generation [will] commend your works to another,
 and shall declare your mighty acts.[5]

In Psalm 71 he says, “I am now an older man, and I have been led by you from my youth, and I still proclaim your mighty deeds. And so it is the longing of my heart,” the psalmist says, “that I will continue to proclaim your wondrous works until the generations that are yet to come will understand and believe these things.”[6]

Now, generational transitions are understandable to us, more so in the time in which we live than, perhaps, even in earlier centuries. It’s hard for many of us to understand that the terminology, for example, of a “teenager” was an unknown notion until for halfway through the twentieth century.

And what is a generation, after all? It’s unlikely that there are any members here—it’s not impossible, but it’s unlikely—that there are any members here of Generation Beta, although I did hear some rumblings in the back earlier on. If you’re a Generation Beta, you were born in 2025. If you were born before 1946—and I’ve seen some of you—then you are part of what we’ve referred to as the Builders Generation. If, like me, you were part of the baby boomers’ time, then that means that you were born between 1946 and 1964; Gen X between ’65 and ’79; Generation Y between ’80 and ’94; Generation Z between ’95 and 2009; and Generation Alpha between 2010 and 2024.

Now, is this particularly helpful? I’m not sure. What it’s referring to is a group of people born and living around the same time and sharing similar experiences or cultural influences—or it is estimated by taking the average period of time between the birth of the parents and the birth of their children. So, for example, there were twenty-six years between my birth and the birth of our firstborn, which gives us this sort of thirty-year period. In the Bible, it’s usually about forty years. But it is a fairly arbitrary thing.

Some of you may actually be feeling now, at this point in the afternoon, that you’ve been in here for a generation. And I don’t want to add to that for you in these closing moments. But Ecclesiastes tells us that “a generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever.”[7]

And in Psalm 71:17–18, what we have is the testimony of an older man—of someone who is concerned and is committed to seeing the subsequent generations understanding truth, seeking to ensure that it is passed on. And he speaks in this way in keeping with the Psalms. “These things that we have heard,” the psalmist says, “and we have known, that our fathers have told us—we will not hide them from their children but tell them to the coming generation, telling them the glorious deeds of the Lord and his might and the wonders he has done.”

So it goes without saying that the psalmist has a sense of obligation: to make sure that as long as he lives, as he serves his generation, that he will continue to proclaim and declare, and he will continue doing so not because he likes the sound of his own voice but because it is so vitally important. The psalmist speaks so that others will hear him, and the psalmist sings so that others will join with him in his song.

Now, obviously, this matters all time and everywhere—vitally important that the generations that follow us will set their hope on God, that they will not forget the works of God but that they will keep his commandments. And perhaps it is fair for us to acknowledge: Here we are in this quite amazing city, a burgeoning city now, full of so many young people—students, teenagers, folks setting out on the journey of their lives, some of them looking for significance and purpose. And this generation—especially our youngest in the group—have spent a significant part of their lives so far absorbing hours of sounds and notions and concepts that can penetrate their souls. So many of the contemporary generation are viewing their lives as being almost like a fast-moving video of random experiences with little meaning and no center to them at all. The present generation is growing up in contemporary Western thought—and certainly here in the States—being told by the world three big lies. Lie number one: There is no creator God. Lie number two: There is no absolute morality. And lie number three: There is no ultimate truth.

The psalmist speaks so that others will hear him, and the psalmist sings so that others will join with him in his song.

So here they are, in many ways sharing some of the characteristics of their generation. All of us of my vintage know what it is to turn down two generations to your grandchildren and say, “Could you please show me how this works?” And they take it immediately, and they’re under the age of nine, and they’re moving around, and they’re helping us. Apparently, they are “digital natives,” whereas I am very, very far from that entirely.

And it isn’t right for us just to categorize everybody in terms of the context out of which they come. You know, why is it that Philip leaves his bedroom in such a disgraceful mess? “Well, he’s Generation Y, you know.” No, he’s not! He’s a naughty boy. It doesn’t matter what generation it is. He’s a lazy rascal, and it doesn’t matter which generation. Do you think that’s new? Oh, it’s not even close to new!

But here’s the thing: The Christian young person, the follower of Jesus, is to live distinctively no matter the context out of which they’ve come. And why is that? Because of what is true of a Christian. Whether they are a boy or a girl, a teen or a young adult—whatever it might be—in Christ, each has a new nature; each, then, finds new desires; and each, then, is moving to an entirely new destiny.

Our Theological Grammar

And it is vitally important that we make sure that those who are following us understand, if you like, theological grammar. You remember that before Jesus leaves his disciples and gathers with them in the upper room, he explains various things to them. And then, in an amazing moment in time, he prays for them. And here are three prepositions that we need to understand: of, from, into—so that our young people understand, “You are not of the world. You have been living in that world and continue to, but you have been taken out of that realm into a new realm; you are from that. And you are not isolated from that world; you are now being sent into that world.”

So then, what are they going to do? The fact of the matter is that they are then to be kept from the Evil One, sent into the world,[8] and they need to be helped in this. And one of the ways in which they can do that is by good hymnody. You say, “Well, you would get to it eventually.” Yes, of course I would! And so why don’t we just sing this? No! No, no, no. Two hundred and eighty-five, to help our young people in terms of identity. We’re not going to sing it, but it begins,

My worth is not in what I own,
[Nor] in the strength of flesh and bone,
But in the … wounds of [Jesus].[9]

They need to understand that’s who they are: that they’ve been made very new.

And, wonderfully, at this moment in the twenty-first century—and how amazing is this?—someone has come up with the idea of a hymnbook. A hymn book! It’s like a revival for me. It’s amazing! Think about this: A generation that is just consumed with social media, large screens, sounds, videos, and everything else—we’re giving them a book. Look, have you felt how big this book is? It’s amazing! I mean, it’s not like you’re going to fit it in your inside pocket or anything. This is a life-changing book, inviting us—inviting us—to sing, to sing to him, to sing praises to him, to tell of all his wondrous works, to sing to the Lord a new song and his praise commend to the ends of the earth.[10]

Now, I’ve done my homework for this, and I want you to understand this: In all that has been said so far and in all that is opening to us by means, for example, of this new hymnal, there are multiple dimensions to its impact, one of which is evangelical. Evangelical. “Well, where would we go for an evangelical hymn?” How about hymn 215? “I love to tell the story; for those who know it best seem hungering and thirsting to hear it, like the rest.”[11] Do you realize how much impact there is when people come into a service, and we sing words like this? They’re not singing with us initially, but they’re listening to us.

It has not only an evangelical dimension to it, but it has a catechetical dimension to it as well, in this sense: that what we’re actually singing is driving home truth to our lives. Three hundred and two, the “Reformation Song”:

Your word alone is solid ground,
The mighty rock on which we build.
In ev’ry line the truth is found,
And ev’ry page with glory filled.[12]

When someone sings that and begins to understand it, they recognize that it is permeating their minds, it is filling their hearts, and it is changing their lives.

It has also a liturgical dimension to it:

When morning gilds the skies,
My heart awaking cries:
May Jesus Christ be praised![13]

That’s number 20. Seven hundred and seven begins,

The day thou gavest, Lord, is ended;
The darkness falls at thy behest;
[Today] our morning hymns ascended;
[Your] praise shall sanctify our rest.[14]

It is, if you like, the liturgy of life itself.

We’ve quoted already from the Book of Common Prayer and, understandably the beginning of the service, both for a.m. and p.m. prayer:

We come together to give thanks for the great benefits we have received at your hand, to declare your most worthy praise, to hear your Holy Word, and to ask for ourselves and on behalf of others those things which are necessary for our life and our salvation. And therefore, we draw near to the throne of heavenly grace.

There’s actually nothing more relevant to the generations that follow us than the vital proclamation of God’s wondrous deeds.

The Testimony of an Older Man

Now, I leave you with verses 17 and 18 of Psalm 71. They’re the testimony of an older man. Of an older man. In many ways, it is my own personal testimony as an older man. I used to—you know, a long time ago. Fifty-three years ago, I was twenty; therefore, fifty-six years ago, I was seventeen. (It’s amazing how quickly I can do that, isn’t it?) But… And so, you know, I was intrigued by

Old friends
Old friends,
[Sit] on their park bench
Like bookends,
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
Of the high shoes
Of the old friends. …

Can you imagine us
Years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange
To be seventy.[15]

But I’m seventy-three. It’s not that strange! In fact, it seems the way it should be.

Because the psalmist is so helpful in this respect: that he is still learning from the past. Still learning from the past. “When all thy mercies, O my God”—it’s 680 in the book—

When all thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view, I’m lost
In wonder, love, and praise. …

Unnumbered comforts to my soul,
[Your] tender care bestowed
Before my infant heart conceived
From whom those comforts flowed.

[And] when in the slippery paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
[Your hand] unseen conveyed me safe
And [brought] me up to man.[16]

That’s the story of every believer. We weren’t born by accident but by design. We realize that God’s overruling providence means that we’re not living by coincidence, that “God is working his purpose[s] out”[17] not only in the broad sweep of human history but in the tiniest details of our personal stories.

You see what a tragedy it is for the present generation to be on the receiving end of a philosophical framework that teaches them that they were born without reason, they’re prolonged just by pure chance, and they die, and they go to oblivion? Is there any surprise at the levels of teenage angst?

This is where the Psalms come in—that those of us who have proved it in the past need still to be living it in the present. And that is exactly what he’s doing. It’s what he says: “From my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds.”[18] There’s got to be a hymn for that, isn’t there? Oh, for sure! How about 495? “Tell out, my soul, the greatness of the Lord! Unnumbered blessings, give my spirit voice.”[19]

We’re living in a culture that is increasingly hostile to Christian faith. And, raising our children and our grandchildren, we sing. In fact, by my own testimony, it wasn’t something that I was particularly partial to when, on some rainy afternoon in Glasgow, I was driving in the car with my father, who was not known for his singing abilities, but it never stopped him singing. And so I had to learn all these songs. And when he found that I was somewhat gloomy, he would launch into “Singing, I go along [the] road, praising the Lord, praising the Lord.”[20] And I was not doing that in the backseat, but I’ve never forgotten it. Because he did that all the way to the end.

My mother, who died at forty-seven, wrote me verses in her final letter to me without knowing it was her final letter. We sang them. We began with them. This is what she wrote there: “Enter … his gates with thanksgiving, and … his courts with praise: be thankful [to] him, and bless his name. For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endure[s] to all generations.”[21]

It matters not only in learning from the past and living in the present but in looking to the future. “Until I proclaim,”[22] he says. “I want to be able to keep going until I am able to pass, if you like, the truths that are conveyed in song, that are there because of the truth of Scripture, to generations that are coming behind us.”

In fact, in Psalm 145 he begins—that is, David begins—singing alone. It’s in the singular: “I… I… I…” By the time you get to the end of Psalm 145, he has been joined by the entire creation. “Praise, my soul, the King of heaven.”[23] The whole of creation joins in wonder, in jubilant song—if you like, in a way that is almost infectious. And it results in others being caught up in the reality of an unending and an unbroken and a quite unreserved praise.

A Few Practical Things

Now, let me say, as I draw this to a close, a number of practical things.

First of all, it surely goes without saying that the lyrics of our songs need to be biblical. Secondly, they need to be rational, so that we move from what is true to the deduction from that truth. For example: “And when I think… ” There’s the problem for some of us. “And when I think that God, his Son not sparing…”[24] Or: “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers,”[25] and so on—so that it is biblical, it is rational, and it is communal. The church is an amazing thing, isn’t it? It’s one of the few places in our world in which you can find young and old, rich, poor, tall, short, clever, not so clever, and all in one place, listening to one word and singing together one song. I mean, it doesn’t happen. The closest thing you have to it is watching Arsenal play Liverpool, which is another—that’s another kind of hymnody, but it’s not this hymnody. But wouldn’t it be quite wonderful if we could get fifty or sixty thousand people declaring in a communal way such that the overspill of the individual praise of our lives is revealed there?

It’s biblical, it’s rational, it’s communal, and it is also, obviously, spiritual. One of the most bandied-around statements, usually in prayer, is “Help us to worship you in spirit and in truth.”[26] It’s good. But it doesn’t mean that anyone can worship God anywhere so long as they’re genuine and sincere. It actually means that only those who receive the Holy Spirit can worship God at all. We sang about it: that the eye of man is blind to the truth of God until God illumines his page and brings it home to our hearts.

It’s vital, then, that we are made spiritually alive. You may be here today already, and you’ve been intrigued by the strength of the singing. Because although you understood the words and the way that the melody reinforced them, you might find a hollowness in your heart. You say, “I don’t know if I know this.” Well, come to him. He’s the one who makes us new from the inside out.

You want to sing? Spiritually alive, spiritually assisted. Spiritually assisted. The mechanical process that has been referenced in all that we have done has been magnificently conveyed for us here in all that has already taken place today. The mechanical process of curating what we’re doing, of ensuring that the melody line supports the lyrical line—all of that is of fundamental importance. But let me say this: No matter how well that is done, it only will do so much until the Spirit of God works within us and creates within us, if you like, an unaffected outbreak of delight in God himself.

That’s why the apostle says, “Be filled with the Holy Spirit, and then speak, sing, do your thing”[27]—so that we are alive, we’re assisted by the Spirit, and then that we are actively involved. I guess I would have to say now, in some senses, I am an American man. I have American citizenship. But I’m not an American man when it comes to singing. I don’t have any change in my pocket. I don’t like to do that as a Scot, because somebody might ask me for it. But I’ve found in my congregation in the past that American men are wonderful change jinglers. They jingle. They don’t necessarily sing; they just jingle. And they sit as far back as they possibly can and just jingle to themselves. It’s not Christmas; I don’t know why you’re jingling.

No matter how well we approach the mechanical aspect of hymn singing, it only will do so much until the Spirit of God works within us to create an unaffected outbreak of delight in God himself.

But the fact of the matter is: It is the Spirit of God that transforms us, that keeps us. This praise is not a spectator sport. And those who lead us in praise need to do so in a manner that is conducive to the best engagement of the congregation in that song. And may I say, just in passing, to those who do lead from the front: Volume and exuberance from the front is not necessarily helpful to congregational praise. You notice how well we sang when Keith brought everything down? Then we found out if we were singing. And, after all, Jesus is ultimately the worship leader. Did you ever think about the fact that before Jesus went out to the garden of Gethsemane, he was singing? You remember that? “And [after] they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.”[28]

Jesus goes to the cross with a hymn in mind. Jesus will return from heaven with a great hymn in mind. In the book of Revelation: the amazing anticipation of what will happen when faith becomes sight. And the wonder of it is this: that although eye hasn’t seen it (’cause it’s invisible) nor ear heard it (because it’s inaudible) nor has it entered into the heart of man (because it’s indescribable), the Spirit of God has revealed it to us,[29] so that we can turn around to one another on any given Lord’s Day or in a gathering like this and say, “Oh, magnify the Lord with me, and [come,] let us exalt his name together!”

Just a brief moment before we sing a song—just a moment of silence.

Take your truth, gracious God; plant it deep in us. Shape and fashion us in your likeness, we pray.[30] Amen.

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[1] Psalm 90:1–4 (ESV).

[2] Psalm 100:1–2 (ESV).

[3] Psalm 105:1–2 (ESV).

[4] Psalm 34:3 (ESV).

[5] Psalm 145:4 (ESV).

[6] Psalm 71:17–18 (paraphrased).

[7] Ecclesiastes 1:4 (ESV).

[8] See John 17:15.

[9] Keith Getty, Kristyn Getty, and Graham Kendrick, “My Worth Is Not in What I Own” (2014).

[10] See Isaiah 42:10.

[11] Arabella Katherine Hankey, “I Love to Tell the Story” (1866).

[12] Tim Chester and Bob Kauflin, “Reformation Song” (2017).

[13] Edward Caswall, trans., “When Morning Gilds the Skies” (1828).

[14] John Ellerton, “The Day Thou Gavest, Lord, Is Ended” (1870).

[15] Paul Simon, “Old Friends” (1968).

[16] Joseph Addison, “When All Thy Mercies, O My God” (1712).

[17] Arthur Campbell Ainger, “God Is Working His Purpose Out” (1894).

[18] Psalm 71:17 (ESV).

[19] Timothy Dudley-Smith, “Tell Out, My Soul, the Greatness of the Lord” (1961).

[20] Eliza Edmunds Hewitt, “Jesus Has Lifted the Load” (1898).

[21] Psalm 100:4–5 (KJV).

[22] Psalm 71:18 (ESV).

[23] Henry Francis Lyte, “Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven” (1834).

[24] Carl Boberg, trans. Stuart Keen Hine, “How Great Thou Art” (1885, 1949).

[25] Psalm 8:3 (NIV).

[26] See John 4:23–24.

[27] Ephesians 5:18–19 (paraphrased).

[28] Matthew 26:30; Mark 14:26 (ESV).

[29] See 1 Corinthians 2:9–10.

[30] Stuart Townend and Keith Getty, “Speak, O Lord” (2005).