The Psalms of David ‎#145

145. My God, my king, thy various praise

1 My God, my King, thy various praise
Shall fill the remnant of my days;
Thy grace employ my humble tongue
Till death and glory raise the song.

2 The wings of ev'ry hour shall bear
Some thankful tribute to thine ear;
And every setting sun shall see
New works of duty done for thee.

3 Thy truth and justice I'll proclaim;
Thy bounty flows an endless stream;
Thy mercy swift, thine anger slow,
But dreadful to the stubborn foe.

4 Thy works with sov'reign glory shine,
And speak thy majesty divine;
Let ev'ry realm with joy proclaim
The sound and honour of thy name.

5 Let distant times and nations raise
The long succession of thy praise;
And unborn ages make my song
The joy and labor of their tongue.

6 But who can speak thy wond'rous deeds,
Thy greatness all our thoughts exceeds;
Vast and unsearchable thy ways!
Vast and immortal be thy praise.

Part II.

7 Sweet is the mem'ry of thy grace,
My God, my heav'nly King;
Let age to age thy righteousness
In sounds of glory sing.

8 God reigns on high, but ne'er confines
His goodness to the skies;
Through the whole earth his bounty shines,
And ev'ry want supplies.

9 With longing eyes thy creatures wait
On thee for daily food;
Thy lib'ral hand provides their meat,
And fills their mouths with good.

10 How kind are thy compassions, Lord!
How slow thine anger moves!
But soon he sends his pard'ning word
To cheer the souls he loves.

11 Creatures with all their endless race
Thy pow'r and praise proclaim;
But saints that taste thy richer grace
Delight to bless thy name.

Part III.

12 Let ev'ry tongue thy goodness speak,
Thou sov'reign Lord of all;
Thy strength'ning hands uphold the weak,
And raise the poor that fall.

13 When sorrow bows the spirit down,
Or virtue lies distrest
Beneath some proud oppressor's frown,
Thou giv'st the mourners rest.

14 The Lord supports our sinking days,
And guides our giddy youth;
Holy and just are all his ways,
And all his words are truth.

15 He knows the pains his servants feel,
He hears his children cry,
And their best wishes to fulfil,
His grace is ever nigh.

16 His mercy never shall remove
From men of heart sincere;
He saves the souls, whose humble love
Is join'd with holy fear.

17 His stubborn foes his sword shall slay,
And pierce their hearts with pain;
But none that serve the Lord shall say,
"They sought his aid in vain."

18 My lips shall dwell upon his praise,
And spread his fame abroad;
Let all the sons of Adam raise
The honours of their God.

Text Information

• First Line: My God, my king, thy various praise
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1789
• Scripture:
  Psalm 145

Tune Information

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