P.XCII.I. Sweet is the work, my God, my King

1 Sweet is the work, my God, my King,
To praise thy name give thanks and sing,
To show thy love by morning light,
And talk of all thy truth at night.

2 Sweet is the day of sacred rest,
No mortal cares shall seize my breast,
O may my heart in tune be found,
Like David's harp of solemn sound!

3 My heart shall triumph in my Lord,
And bless his works and bless his word,
Thy works of grace how bright they shine!
How deep thy counsels! how divine!

4 Fools never raise their thoughts so high;
Luke brutes they live, like brutes they die;
Like grass they flourish, 'till thy breath
Blasts them in everlasting death.

5 But I shall share a glorious part
When grace hath well refin'd my heart,
And fresh supplies of joy are shed
Like holy oil to cheer my head.

6 Sin (my worst enemy before)
Shall vex my eyes and ears no more;
My inward foes shall all be slain,
Nor Satan break my peace again.

7 Then shall I see and hear and know
All I desir'd, or wish'd below;
And ev'ry pow'r find sweet employ
In that eternal world of joy.

Text Information
First Line: Sweet is the work, my God, my King
Meter: L. M.
Publication Date: 1816
Topic: A Psalm for the Lord's Day
Tune Information
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