3 His wisdom fram'd the sun, 4 He smote the first-born sons, 5 His pow'r and lifted rod, 6 But cruel Pharaoh there, Thy mercy, Lord, PAUSE. 7 The kings of Canaan fell 8 He saw the nations lie, 9 He sent his only Son, His pow'r and grace And let his name 10 Give thanks aloud to God, 146. The same. (L. M.) 1IVE to our God immortal praise ; 2 Give to the Lord of lords renown, His mercies ever shall endure, "When lords and kings are known no more." 3 He built the earth, he spread the sky, " 4 He fills the sun with morning light, He bids the moon direct the night: "His mercies ever shall endure, "When sun and moon shall shine no more." 5 The Jews he freed from Pharoah's hand, And brought them to the promis'd land: "Wonders of grace to God belong, ८८ Repeat his mercies in your song. 6 He saw the Gentiles dead in sin, And felt his pity work within : His mercies ever shall endure, "When death and sin shall reign no more 7 He sent his Son with pow'r to save, From guilt, and darkness, and the grave: "Wonders of grace to God belong, Repeat his mercies in your song." 8 Thro' this vain world he guides our feet, And leads us to his heav'nly seat: His mercies ever shall endure, When this vain world shall be no more.' 147. Praise to God for his Goodness and Trut (P. M.) 1 T'LL praise my Maker with my breath; And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall employ my nobler pow'rs; My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last, Or immortality endures. 2 Why should I make a man my trust? Princes must die, and turn to dust; Vain is the help of flesh and blood : Their breath departs, their pomp and pow'r And thoughts, all vanish in an hour, Nor can they make their promise good. 3 Happy the man, whose hopes rely 4 The Lord hath eyes to give the blind, He sends the lab'ring conscience peace; And grants the pris'ner sweet release. 5 He loves his saints, he knows them well, Praise him in everlasting strains. 6 I'll praise him while he lends me breath; And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall employ my nobler pow'rs; My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last, Or immortality endures. 148. The same. (L. M.) 1 PRAISE ye the Lord; 'tis good to raise hearts and voices in his praise: His nature and his works invite, To make this duty our delight. M |