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ALL people that on earth do dwell,
Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice ;
Come ye before Him and rejoice.
The Lord ye know is God indeed,
Without our aid He did us make ;
And for his sheep He doth us take.
O enter then his gates with praise,
Approach with joy his courts unto,
For it is seemly so to do.
For why ? the Lord our God is good,
is for ever sure ;
And shall from age to age endure.
WITH one consent let all the earth
To God their cheerful voices raise ;
And sing before Him songs of praise.
Convinc'd that He is God alone,
From whom both we and all proceed;
The flock that He vouchsafes to feed.
O enter then his temple gate,
Thence to his courts devoutly press;
And still his Name with praises bless.
For He's the Lord, supremely good,
His mercy is for ever sure ;
To endless ages shall endure.
BEFORE Jehovah's awful throne,
Ye nations, bow with sacred joy :
He can create, and He destroy.
His sov'reign power, without our aid,
Made us of clay, and form'd us men;
He brought us to his fold again.
We'll crowd thy gates with thankful songs ;
High as the heavens our voices raise :
Shall fill thy courts with sounding praise.
Wide as the world is thy command ;
Vast as eternity thy love ;
When rolling years shall cease to move.
O BLESS the Lord, my soul,
His grace to thee proclaim,
To bless his holy Name :
His mercies bear in mind;
The Lord to thee is kind.
He will not always chide,
He will with patience wait;
And ready to abate :
Prolongs thy feeble breath ;
And ransoms thee from death.
He clothes thee with his love,
Upholds thee with his truth;
The vigour of thy youth:
Whose grace has made thee whole;
O bless the Lord, my soul.
O RENDER thanks to God above,
Who can his mighty deeds express,
0! may I worthy prove to see
O LET us praise the Lord,
From hearts by true love guided,
One Godhead undivided :
Upholds man's feeble form,
Through each succeeding storm.
Sing praises every one
To God for man's creation,
Who died for our salvation:
With pure and grateful prayers,
And heaven itself declares.
MY soul, repeat his praise,
Whose mercies are so great ;
So ready to abate.
To those that fear his Name,
He knows our feeble frame.
Or like the morning flower;
It withers in an hour.
To endless years endure;
Thy word of promise sure. 242
FOR mercies, countless as the sands,
Which daily I receive
My soul, what canst thou give ?
What can I bring Him forth ?
My all is nothing worth.
So wretched and so poor,
And ask Him still for more,