At first glance, The 37th Psalm is a beautifully written, beautifully sung album, but when you sit with it, when you let the lyrics breathe and allow the Scriptures behind each track to speak, something deeper becomes clear: this album is a revelation of the Holy Trinity.
Right on the album sleeve, Ncebakazi Msomi writes:
“The Father. The Son. The Holy Spirit.”
And every song, every progression, every prophetic cry is crafted to help us behold each Person of the Godhead; not in isolation but in their unity, harmony and divine work in the life of the believer.
From the very opening track, we are invited to encounter the unchanging nature of the Father; the God who remains faithful, steady, holy, and sure.
Then, as the album unfolds, we find ourselves drawn into the longing for the Spirit, the cry for His filling, His renewal, His teaching, His sanctifying work within us. And finally, we are brought face to face with the Son, the Entrusted One, the Lamb, the One whose mercy and sacrifice anchor our entire faith.
This album does not simply mention the Trinity; it reveals, reminds us of and remains rooted in the Holy Trinity. It calls us to remember that our walk with God is not sustained by feelings, emotional highs, or momentary inspiration, but by the eternal, triune God who was, who is, and who forever will be:
The Father who calls
The Son who saves
The Spirit who sustains
As you move through this study; song by song, verse by verse; my prayer is that your heart is reawakened to the fullness of who God is. That you don’t just sing these songs but you behold the Trinity through them. That you worship through understanding, you meditate with clarity, you fall in love with God again not vaguely, but personally and specifically.
May this study deepen your biblical literacy, enrich your worship, and anchor your faith in the One who has revealed Himself fully.
“For I the Lord do not change; therefore you, O children of Jacob, are not consumed.” — Malachi 3:6
At the heart of Awujiki lies a powerful declaration; God does not change. The heavens proclaim His glory, and creation bears witness to His steadfastness. The song becomes an anthem of reverence, exalting God’s holiness, might, and faithfulness: “You do not change, You are great, You are powerful.”
Malachi 3:6 reveals this truth as both a comfort and a warning. For Israel, God’s unchanging nature meant that even in their rebellion, He remained faithful to His covenant. His justice and mercy were not swayed by human inconsistency. The same God who disciplines is also the God who delivers; unchanging in His character and unfailing in His love.
Awujiki echoes this constancy. It invites us to rest in the assurance that God’s nature does not shift with our seasons. His promises are not dependent on our performance; His faithfulness is not conditional on our feelings. In a world that changes daily where people, priorities, and circumstances shift like sand; God stands as our sure ground, our unmoved anchor.
But the song also carries a gentle rebuke. If He does not change, then why do we? Why do our hearts drift toward other sources of stability; careers, relationships, status hoping they will sustain us? Awujiki calls us to abandon our substitutes for security, to lay down everything we trust besides God.
It reminds us that true stability is not found in predictable outcomes but in a faithful God. To live “based on God” means to build our lives around His Word and character; not because it guarantees a life without storms, but because it guarantees that when the storm comes, the foundation will hold.
When we truly grasp that “He does not change,” worship becomes more than a song; it becomes surrender. We can remain in Him, not because we hope to gain the things we want, but because we are convinced of who He is.
“The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David!’ ‘Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!’ ‘Hosanna in the highest heaven!’” — Matthew 21:9
This song points us to Jesus as King, reminding us that His authority and glory were evident even in His humanity. As He entered Jerusalem, the crowd recognised Him not only as a man, but as the Messiah, the promised Savior. His kingship is unlike any earthly ruler; He does not rely on force, wealth, or power to assert His reign. Instead, His glory shines through humility, obedience, and love.
Hosanna is both a declaration of praise and a cry for salvation. It captures the tension between Jesus’ present humility and the ultimate triumph He will bring. This moment calls us to acknowledge Him as Lord over our lives, surrendering our own understanding of power, success, and control, and instead embracing His divine authority.
We are invited to reflect on our own response to Jesus’ kingship. Do we welcome Him as the crowd did, with adoration and expectancy, or do we approach Him with hesitation and reservation? Our worship, like the cries of Hosanna, should come from a recognition of who He truly is; the mighty, compassionate King whose reign transforms hearts and restores hope.
Hosanna reminds us that worship must go beyond words; it must become the posture of our hearts. Just as the people once cried out in Jerusalem, we too are called to lift our hearts in adoration, not just in moments of joy but in every season. The song and verse together challenge us to welcome Jesus into every part of our lives, declaring, “Hosanna!”; not just with our mouths, but with our obedience and surrender. It is a call to behold and gaze upon the King.
“This is the water that I will give for the life of the world, so that whoever drinks of it will never thirst again.” - John 4:14
This song is a heartfelt declaration of a soul that longs for its Creator. It captures the deep thirst of the human heart; a yearning that cannot be satisfied by anything the world offers. Just as the Samaritan woman at the well was offered living water that would quench her deepest thirst, this song reminds us that Jesus is the true source of life and satisfaction.
Our souls often seek fulfillment in temporary pleasures, achievements, or relationships, yet these only leave us wanting more. Ncebakazi points us to the “fountain of life” (remember the song from the 34th Psalm?); the eternal source whose presence refreshes, restores, and sustains us. The song evokes the image of a thirsty heart seeking water, echoing the psalmist’s cry: only in God can we find complete satisfaction.
It also emphasises God’s unwavering faithfulness. The One who gives life will never abandon or forsake the soul that comes to Him; "and the one who comes to Me I will by no means cast out - John 6:37.” This truth calls us to fix our focus on Him, not merely for what He provides, but because He is the source itself. In the midst of weariness, distraction, or spiritual drought, we are reminded to turn back to Jesus, to drink deeply from His presence, and allow Him to satisfy the longing of our hearts.
Ultimately, this song invites us into a posture of dependence, surrender, and trust; recognising that our deepest needs are met not by what we achieve or acquire, but by the Living Water who sustains all creation.
“And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules.” - Ezekiel 36:26-27
Gcwalisa is a continuation of the soul’s cry for fulfillment, but it goes deeper: it is a plea for renewal, transformation, and spiritual alignment. The song captures the longing for God not just to fill the emptiness within us, but to reshape our hearts and guide our every step. The lyrics invite the Holy Spirit to revive, refine, and lead; in our personal lives, work, worship, and every facet of our walk with God.
The message is that true overflow comes not from striving or from our own understanding, but from being led by the Spirit. When the Spirit fills us, our actions, words, and attitudes flow from His presence rather than from doubt, fear, or human effort. This aligns perfectly with God's promise in Ezekiel: God replaces our hardened hearts with hearts of flesh, putting His Spirit within us so that we may live in alignment with His will.
Gcwalisa reminds us that renewal is not passive. It is a partnership: we come to God, invite His Spirit to fill and guide us, and allow Him to refine our hearts so that worship and obedience become natural expressions of a Spirit-led life. Ezekiel 36:26–27 finds its living expression in Gcwalisa. It’s a call to surrender our old ways, invite divine transformation, and trust that God’s Spirit will empower us to live fully in His purpose.
“But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.” - John 14:26
This song flows beautifully from the cries of longing found in the previous songs; Umphefumlo/Manzi and Gcwalisa. Where those songs expressed the heart’s desperate thirst for God’s presence and a plea to be filled by the Spirit, Moy’Oyingcwele / Siyabulela Ngawe is the sound of fulfillment and gratitude. It is the song of a soul that has been filled, restored, and now overflows in thanksgiving.
The song acknowledges the Holy Spirit; not as an abstract force, but as a divine Person: our Comforter, our Teacher, our Helper. The song defines His identity and celebrates His role in our daily walk. It reminds us that the Spirit is God’s precious gift to us, sent to dwell within, to correct, to comfort, and to guide us into all truth. The heart of this song beats with gratitude; gratitude for the nearness of God (through the Holy Spirit dwelling in us), for His patient instruction, and for the transformation that His Spirit works in us.
It paints a picture of what life in the Spirit looks like. The Holy Spirit teaches us to live peaceably with others, to love deeply, to endure hardship, and to grow in the fruit of the Spirit. He purifies the Church; the Bride, preparing her to meet her Groom, Jesus Christ. He reveals the hidden things of God, brings light to what was once dark, and reminds us of every word spoken by Christ.
This song becomes a declaration of alignment; that we are not abandoned to figure out this walk alone. The Spirit within us shapes the very character of Christ in our hearts. He teaches us not only what to say, but how to live. His teaching may challenge and stretch us, but it leads to life, peace, and truth.
Moy’Oyingcwele / Siyabulela Ngawe is the anthem of a heart that has moved from thirst to fullness, from yearning to gratitude. It teaches us that the cry to be filled does not end with receiving; it continues in thanksgiving, as we walk daily with the Spirit who empowers and sustains us.
“Oh give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His steadfast love endures forever!” - Psalm 107:1
From the posture of gratitude that began in Moy’Oyingcwele / Siyabulela Ngawe, Bulelani continues with the same thanksgiving and praise. It is a song that bursts with joy; a celebration of the unchanging goodness and mercy of God. While the previous song gave thanks for the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit, Bulelani calls us to widen that thanksgiving into a communal chorus: Oh, give thanks to the Lord!
It reminds us that thanksgiving is not passive; it is active, expressive, and rooted in remembrance. The same God who showed mercy to Israel; parting seas, redeeming captives and feeding wanderers continues to pour out mercy in our lives today. The song bridges generations, echoing the ancient cry of Israel while making space for our own voices to join in. We do not only give thanks because they did; we give thanks because we, too, have tasted and seen the Lord’s goodness.
The lyrics proclaim God’s enduring mercy; His mercy endures forever; a truth that forms the backbone of our worship. His mercy does not expire, weaken, or run dry. It is new every morning, sustaining us even when we fall short. The repetition of this phrase is more than poetic; it is prophetic, reminding our souls of the eternal consistency of God’s love.
But I believe there’s also a deeper layer to this song, hinted at by just two words. It reminds us that this merciful, steadfast God is not distant; He is Abba Father. That title changes everything. To know that the Lord whose mercy endures forever is also our Father means that His kindness is not only powerful, but personal. It means that we have direct access to the fullness of His grace and the abundance of His heart.
With every word, Bulelani invites us into joyful celebration; not the quiet gratitude of reflection, but the loud, dancing, unreserved praise that comes from knowing we are loved by a faithful God. It is a reminder that thanksgiving is a spiritual act of warfare and victory. When we praise, we declare that mercy has triumphed over judgment, that joy has conquered despair, and that our God remains good through it all. Thanksgiving is a posture of those who have encountered unending mercy.
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” - Matthew 11:28-29
Abadiniweyo / Balekela is a tender yet urgent plea; a song that reaches both the heart of the believer and the one still searching for rest. Its tenderness speaks to those who have already received salvation, reminding them that in Christ, striving is no longer necessary. We no longer need to carry the weight of performance, fear, or self-sufficiency. In Him, we have rest. The words “In Him we dwell, in Him we have life” remind the believer that true life flows not from doing, but from abiding in the One who has already finished the work.
This song invites us to breathe again, to settle into the security of His love, and to remember that rest is not an escape but a posture; one rooted in the assurance of who Christ is and what He has done.
But there’s also an urgency woven into its call, a cry that reaches out to those who have not yet found salvation. This song is also a call to salvation; an urgent invitation to those who have not yet come to Christ. “Balekela kuYe” echoes the heart of the gospel: there is no true rest outside of Jesus.
The world’s rest is momentary, it soothes the surface but never heals the soul. Only in Christ can the weary heart find lasting peace, forgiveness, and renewal. To run to Him is to surrender; to lay down every heavy load and exchange it for His yoke, which is easy and light.
Together, the verse and the song form a complete message; the tenderness of rest for those who are already His, and the urgency of invitation for those still searching. Christ’s call is both gentle and pressing; come, run, rest, dwell, and live in Him.
“Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land until the ninth hour. And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ … And behold, the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And the earth shook, and the rocks were split. The tombs also were opened. … When the centurion and those who were with him, keeping watch over Jesus, saw the earthquake and what took place, they were filled with awe and said, ‘Truly this was the Son of God!’” - Matthew 27:45-54
Yebo NguYe is a reverent declaration of the crucified Christ; the Entrusted One, chosen to bear the full weight of salvation and to give birth to His Church. The song mirrors Matthew 27:45-54, where creation itself reacts to the suffering and death of the Son of God: the sun darkens, the earth trembles, and graves open. Every line of the song pulls us deeper into the mystery of the cross; a moment that was both horrific and glorious, tragic and triumphant.
"Ilanga lacim' emini" is not just an image of cosmic grief but a declaration of divine exchange; Light itself being momentarily eclipsed so that we might walk in everlasting light. The line "Izulu lathi nguYe lo" captures that heaven's testimony about Jesus never wavered, even as earth turned its back on Him.
The same Jesus who was "stripped of His royalty" on the cross is the One through whom the Church was born; a Church not built on human strength, but on the finished work of Christ.
The imagery of the veil tearing and graves opening in the song ties beautifully to the verse, they mark the beginning of new access and new life. The torn veil means reconciliation; the opened tombs mean resurrection. Both proclaim the same truth: death has lost its power. When the song declares, "Sakukufa asoyiki, ngoba ukufa ukoyisile", it is a triumphant anthem for every believer.
Yet this song is more than remembrance; it is also a call to continue declaring this truth. Yebo NguYe urges us not to let the confession end at Calvary but to carry it into our everyday lives. We, too, must echo heaven's declaration: "Truly, this is the Son of God."
At its heart, Yebo NguYe is a confession and celebration; "Yes, He is the One." The One chosen, crucified, and glorified. The One who gave up His divinity out of mercy and His throne out of love. It is both worship and witness: the Church's eternal song that all of creation once sang at Calvary - Truly, this is the Son of God!!!
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” - Lamentations 3:22-23
Ngomusa ne Nceba is a heartfelt declaration of gratitude for the unending grace (umusa) and mercy (inceba) of God; the twin foundations upon which our faith and our lives stand. The song is gentle yet powerful, reminding us that everything we are, everything we have, and everything we hope to be is rooted not in our own efforts, but in God’s steadfast love.
Lamentations 3:22–23 emerges from a place of deep sorrow and devastation. Jerusalem had fallen, and the prophet Jeremiah stood amid the ruins, yet even there, surrounded by despair, he could still say, “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases.” This is what Ngomusa ne Nceba captures so beautifully. It takes the same truth Jeremiah saw in the ashes and turns it into a melody of hope: “We’re standing by Your grace. We live by Your mercy.”
The repetition in the song is both a confession and an act of worship. It echoes like a heartbeat, a constant rhythm of remembrance that no matter what season we find ourselves in, God’s grace and mercy are the unshakable ground beneath us. Grace reminds us that we have been redeemed, pulled out from where we could never save ourselves. Mercy reminds us that we are sustained, held fast by a love that refuses to let go.
The song brings to life what it means to stand by grace, not by our performance, our discipline, or our understanding, but purely by the undeserved favor of God. The song acknowledges that grace didn’t just save us once; it keeps saving us, every day. And mercy doesn’t just cover our past; it renews our present and secures our future.
Listening to this song feels like taking a deep breath after a long cry; a reminder that even after seasons of weariness, the mercy of God greets us afresh each morning. It’s a soft yet strong declaration that even when we falter, grace still stands. Even when everything else changes, mercy remains.
Ultimately, Ngomusa ne Nceba invites us to rest in this truth: we are standing, living, breathing, and enduring; all by His grace and mercy.
“Come now, let us reason together, says the Lord: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow, though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool.” - Isaiah 1:18
Selinamandla Igazi is a triumphant declaration of the cleansing and conquering power of the blood of Jesus. The song begins with the image of sin, our sins red as blood, but swiftly turns to the miracle of redemption: we have been washed clean, made white as snow. This movement from guilt to grace mirrors the promise of Isaiah 1:18, where God Himself invites us into a conversation of mercy: though our sin is undeniable, His forgiveness is greater still.
The repeated refrain “Selinamandla igazi lemvana" is both a confession and a proclamation. It is the believer’s reminder and the enemy’s defeat. In those few words lies the entire message of the Gospel: that the blood shed at Calvary was not just symbolic, but powerful; living, active, and eternally effective. It speaks a better word than our shame, our past, and even our failures.
The song’s simplicity is its strength. By declaring the same truth again and again, it draws our hearts into remembrance; that our standing before God is not fragile or uncertain. We are anchored in the finished work of Christ. His blood did not lose its power with time; it remains the source of our cleansing, our confidence, and our continual renewal.
For those who have already received salvation, Selinamandla Igazi calls us to rest in the assurance that we are not striving for acceptance; we are accepted because of the blood. And for those still searching, it is an invitation to salvation itself; to come, be washed, and made new.
In the end, the song is both a celebration and a call to worship. It reminds us that every day, in every struggle, and through every season, we overcome not by our strength, but by the blood of the Lamb.