1 When all the mercies of my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Why, my cold heart, art thou not lost
In wonder, love and praise?
2 Thy providence my life sustain'd,
And all my Wants redress'd
While in the silent womb I lay,
And hung upon the breast.
3 To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,
Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learn'd
To form themselves in pray'r.
4 Unnumber'd comforts on my soul
Thy tender care bestow'd,
Before my infant-heart conceiv'd
From whom those comforts flow'd.
5 When in the slipp'ry paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
Thine arm, unseen, convey'd me safe,
And led me up to man.
6 Thro' hidden dangers, toils and deaths
It gently clear'd my way,
And thro' the pleasing snares of vice,
More to be fear'd than they.
7 Thro' ev'ry period of my life
Thy goodness I’ll pursue;
And after death in distant worlds,
The pleasing theme renew.
9 Thro' all eternity to Thee
A grateful song I’ll raise;
But O! eternity’s too short
To utter all thy praise.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | When all the mercies of my God |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1788 |
Topic: | Praise |