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ALL people that on earth do dwell,

Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice;
Him serve with fear, his praise forth tell;

Come ye before Him and rejoice.
The Lord

ye

know is God indeed, Without our aid He did us make ; We are his flock, He doth us feed,

And for his sheep He doth us take.

O enter then his gates with praise,

Approach with joy his courts unto,
Praise, laud, and bless his Name always,

For it is seemly so to do.

For why ? the Lord our God is good,
His
mercy

is for ever sure ;
His truth at all times firmly stood,

And shall from age to age endure.

L. M.

236

WITH one consent let all the earth

To God their cheerful voices raise ;
Glad homage pay with awful mirth,

And sing before Him songs of praise.

Convinc'd that He is God alone,

From whom both we and all proceed;
We, whom He chooses for his own,

The flock that He vouchsafes to feed.

O enter then his temple gate,

Thence to his courts devoutly press;
And still your grateful hymns repeat,

And still his Name with praises bless.

For He's the Lord, supremely good,

His mercy is for ever sure;
His truth, which always firmly stood,

To endless ages shall endure.

237

L. I.

BEFORE Jehovah's awful throne,

Ye nations, bow with sacred joy :
Know that the Lord is God alone ;

He can create, and He destroy.

His sov'reign power, without our aid,

Made us of clay, and form'd us men;
And when, like waud'ring sheep, we stray'd,

He brought us to his fold again.

We 'll crowd thy gates with thankful songs ;

High as the heavens our voices raise:
And earth, with her ten thousand tongues,

Shall fill thy courts with sounding praise.

Wide as the world is thy command;

Vast as eternity thy love;
Firm as a rock thy truth shall stand,

When rolling years shall cease to move.

O BLESS the Lord, my soul,

His grace to thee proclaim,
And alĩ that is within me join

To bless his holy Name :
O bless the Lord, my soul,

His mercies bear in mind;
Forget not all his benefits,

The Lord to thee is kind.

He will not always chide,

He will with patience wait ;
His wrath is ever slow to rise,

And ready to abate :
He pardons all thy sins,

Prolongs thy feeble breath ;
He healeth thine infirmities,

And ransoms thee from death.

He clothes thee with his love,

Upholds thee with his truth ;
And, like the eagle, He renews

The vigour of thy youth:
Then bless his holy Name,

Whose grace has made thee whole;
Whose lovingkindness crowns thy days,

O bless the Lord, my soul.

I., M.

239

O RENDER thanks to God above,
The fountain of eternal love;
Whose mercy firm through ages past
Has stood, and shall for ever last.

Who can his mighty deeds express,
Not only vast, but numberless ?
What mortal eloquence can raise
His tribute of immortal praise ?

0! may I worthy prove to see
Thy saints in full prosperity;
That I the joyful choir may join,
And count thy people's triumph mine!

Let Israel's God be ever bless d,
His Name eternally confess'd ;
Let all his saints, with full accord,
Sing loud Amens-Praise ye the Lord.

6. 7.

240

O LET us praise the Lord,

From hearts by true love guided,
His Spirit and his Word,

One Godhead undivided :
From infancy his power

Upholds man's feeble form,
And shields the trembling flower

Through each succeeding storm.

Sing praises every one

To God for man's creation,
And to his blessed Son,

Who died for our salvation:
Come, let us praise the Lord

With pure and grateful prayers,
Whose truth bright saints record,

And heaven itself declares.

MY soul, repeat his praise,

Whose mercies are so great ;
Whose anger is so slow to rise,

So ready to abate.
The pity of the Lord,

To those that fear his Name,
Is such as tender parents feel;

He knows our feeble frame.

Our days are as the grass,

Or like the morning flower;
If one sharp blast sweep o'er the field,

It withers in an hour.

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But thy compassions, Lord,

To endless years endure ;
And children's children ever find

Thy word of promise sure. 242

FOR mercies, countless as the sands,

Which daily I receive
From Jesus my Redeemer's hands,

My soul, what canst thou give ?
Alas! from such a heart as mine

What can I bring Him forth ?
My best is stain'd and dyed with sin,

My all is nothing worth.
The best return for one like me,

So wretched and so poor,
Is from his gifts to draw a plea,

And ask Him still for more,

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