The Psalms of David ‎#P103d

P103d. My Soul, repeat his Praise

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.

Text Information

• First Line: My Soul, repeat his Praise
• Meter: Short Metre
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1740
• Scripture:
  Psalm 103:8-18
• Topic: 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

Tune Information

(No tune information)