Hymnal: The Psalms of David #P103d (1766) Scripture: Psalm 103:8-18 Lyrics: 1 My Soul, repeat his Praise,
Whose Mercies are so great;
Whose Anger is so slow to rise,
So ready to abate.
2 GOD will not always chide;
And when his Strokes are felt,
His Strokes are fewer than our Crimes,
And lighter than our Guilt.
3 High as the Heav'ns are raised
Above the Ground we tread,
So far the Riches of his Grace
Our highest Thoughts exceed.
4 His Pow'r subdues our Sins,
And his forgiving Love,
Far as the East is from the West,
Doth all our Guilt remove.
5 The Pity of the Lord,
To those that fear his Name,
Is such as tender Parents feel;
He knows our feeble Frame.
6 He knows we are but Dust,
Scatter'd with every Breath:
His Anger, like a rising Wind,
Can send us swift to Death.
7 Our Days are as the Grass,
Or like the Morning Flow'r;
If one sharp Blast sweeps o'er the Field
It withers in an Hour.
8 But thy Compassion, Lord,
To endless Years endure;
And Children's Children ever find
Thy Words of Promise sure. Topics: Afflicted gentle; Angels praise the Lord; Compassion of God; God his universal dominion; God mercy and truth; Goodness of God; Mercies common and special; Mercies spiritual and temporal Languages: English
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