Verse 1

MY soul, repeat His praise Whose mercies are so great, Whose anger is so slow to rise, So ready to abate.

Verse 2

God will not always chide; And when His strokes are felt, His strokes are fewer than our crimes, And lighter than our guilt.

Verse 3

High as the heavens are raised Above the ground we tread, So far the riches of His grace Our highest thoughts exceed.

Verse 4

The pity of the Lord To those that fear His Name Is such as tender parents feel; He knows our feeble frame.

Verse 5

Our days as are the grass, Or like the morning flower; If one sharp blast sweep o’er the field, It withers in an hour.

Verse 6

But Thy compassions, Lord, To endless years endure; And children’s children ever find Thy words of promise sure. Amen.

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