3. 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 wrath is felt,
His strokes are fewer than or crimes,
And lighter than our guilt.

3 High as the heavens are raised
Above the ground we tread,
So far the riches of His grace
Our highest thoughts exceed.

4 His grace 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 who fear His name,
Is such as tender parents feel;
He knows our feeble frame.

6 Our days are as the grass,
Or like the morning flower!
If one sharp blast sweep o'er the field,
It withers in an hour.

7 But thy great compassions, 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: S. M.
Language: English
Publication Date: 1870
Topic: Public Worship: Praise and Adoration; God: Benefactor; God: long-suffering (8 more...)
Notes: Author from index: Watts
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