1 The Lord abounds with tender love,
And unexampled acts of grace:
His waken'd wrath doth slowly move,
His willing mercy flows apace.
2 God will not always harshly chide,
But with his anger quickly part;
And loves his punishments to guide,
More by his love than our desert.
3 As high as heav'n its arch extends
Above this little spot of clay,
So much his boundless love transcends
The small respects that we can pay.
4 As far as 'tis from east to west,
So far has he our sins remov'd;
Who with a father's tender breast,
Has such as fear him always lov'd.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | The Lord abounds with tender love |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1789 |
Scripture: | |
Topic: | Psalms of Thanksgiving |
Source: | Tate and Brady's New Version |