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77,77. "O give thanks unto the Lord.” 1 Let us, with a gladsome mind, Praise the Lord, for he is kind;

For his mercies aye endure,

Ever faithful, ever sure.
2 Who, with all-commanding might,
Filled the new-made world with light;

For his mercies aye endure,

Ever faithful, ever sure. 3 He his chosen race did bless In the wasteful wilderness;

For his mercies aye endure,

Ever faithful, ever sure. 4 He hath, with a piteous eye, Looked upon our misery;

For his mercies aye endure,

Ever faithful, ever sure.
5 All things living he doth feed,
With full hand supplies their need;

For his mercies aye endure,

Ever faithful, ever sure.
6 Let us therefore warble forth
His high majesty and worth;

For his mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

John Milton. 1624.

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"The Father of lights."
1 LORD of all being; throned afar,

Thy glory flames from sun and star;
Centre and soul of every sphere,
Yet to each loving heart how near,

2 Sun of our life, thy quickening ray

Sheds on our path the glow of day;
Star of our hope, thy softened light
Cheers the long watches of the night.
3 Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn;

Our noontide is thy gracious dawn;
Our rainbow arch thy mercy's sign;

All, save the clouds of sin, are thine.
4 Lord of all life, below, above,

Whose light is truth, whose warmth is love,
Before thy ever-blazing throne

We ask no lustre of our own.
5 Grant us thy truth to make us free,

And kindling hearts that burn for thee,
Till all thy living altars claim
One holy light, one heavenly flame.

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 1848.

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1 My God, how wonderful thou art,

Thy majesty how bright,
How beautiful thy mercy-seat

In depths of burning light.
2 O how I fear thee, living God,

With deepest, tenderest fears,
And worship thee with trembling hope,

And penitential tears.
3 Yet I may love thee too, O Lord,

Almighty as thou art,
For thou hast stooped to ask of me
The love of my poor heart.

4 No earthly father loves like thee,

No mother half so mild
Bears and forbears, as thou hast done

With me, thy sinful child.
5 Only to sit and think of God,

O what a joy it is,
To think the thought, to breathe the name;

Earth has no higher bliss.
6 Father of Jesus, love's Reward,

What rapture will it be,
Prostrate before thy throne to lie,
And gaze and gaze on thee.

Frederick William Faber. 1849.


Praise the Lord, for he is good."
1 My God, thy boundless love I praise ;
How bright on high its glories blaze,

How sweetly bloom below:
It streams from thine eternal throne;
Through heaven its joys for ever run,

And o'er the earth they flow.
2 'Tis love that paints the purple morn,
And bids the clouds, in air upborne,

Their genial drops distil;
In every vernal beam it glows,
And breathes in every gale that blows,

And glides in every rill.
• It robes in cheerful green the ground,
And pours its flowery beauties round,

Whose sweets perfume the gale ;
Its bounties richly spread the plain,
The blushing fruit, the golden grain,-
And smile on every vale.

4 Then let the love that makes me blessed
With cheerful praise inspire my breast,

And ardent gratitude;
And all my thoughts and passions tend
To thee, my Father, and my Friend,
My soul's eternal Good.

Henry Moore. 1806.


55,55,65,65. Ir.
* Thou art clothed with honour and majesty."
1 O WORSHIP the King

All glorious above,
O gratefully sing

His power and his love,
Our Shield and Defender,

The Ancient of days,
Pavilioned in splendour

And girded with praise.

2 O tell of his might,

O sing of his grace,
Whose robe is the light,

Whose canopy space.
His chariots of wrath

Deep thunder-clouds form,
And dark is his path

On the wings of the storm.

3 This earth, with its store

Of wonders untold,
Almighty, thy power

Hath founded of old;
Hath stablished it fast

By a changeless decree,
And round it hath cast,
Like a mantle, the sea.

4 Thy bountiful care

What tongue can recite ?
It breathes in the air,

It shines in the light,
It streams from the hills,

It descends to the plain,
And sweetly distils

In the dew and the rain.

5 Frail children of dust,

And feeble as frail,
In thee do we trust,

Nor find thee to fail :
Thy mercies, how tender,

How firm to the end,
Our Maker, Defender,

Redeemer, and Friend.

6 O measureless Might,

Ineffable Love,
While angels delight

To hymn thee above,
The humbler creation,

Though feeble their lays,
With true adoration
Shall lisp to thy praise.

Sir Robert Grant. 1839.


"Bless the Lord in all places of his dominion."
1 PRAISE, my soul, the King of heaven,

To his feet thy tribute bring;
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
Who, like me, his praise should sing ?

Praise him, praise him,
Praise the everlasting King.

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