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Bless God, my soul, O Lord my God

Bless God, my soul, O Lord my God

Published in 11 hymnals

Representative Text

1 Bless God, my soul. O Lord my God,
thou art exceeding great;
With honour and with majesty
thou clothed art in state.
2 With light, as with a robe, thyself
thou coverest about;
and, like unto a curtain, thou
the heavens stretchest out.

3 Who of his chambers doth the beams
within the waters lay;
who doth the clouds his chariot make,
on wings of wind make way.
4 Who flaming fire his ministers,
his angels spirits, doth make:
5 who earth’s foundations firm did lay,
that it should never shake.

6 Thou didst it cover with the deep,
as with a garment spread:
the waters stood above the hills,
above the mountains' head.
7 But at the voice of thy rebuke
they fled, and would not stay;
they at thy thunder’s dreadful voice
did haste them fast away.

8 They by the hills ascend, their way
back by the vales they take,
descending to the very place
which thou for them didst make.
9 Thou hast a bound unto them set,
o'er which they may not go,
that they may not return again
to earth to overflow.

10 He through the valleys sendeth springs,
'mong hills their course they take:
11 beasts of field all drink of them
their thirst wild asses slake.
12 The birds of heaven their dwelling make
where these do flow along,
and from among the leafy boughs
with joy give forth their song.

13 He from his chambers watereth
the hills when they are dried:
with fruit and increase of thy works
the earth is satisfied.
14 For cattle he makes grass to grow,
herb for man's use to spring,
that from the bosom of the earth
he bread for him may bring;

15 And wine that to the heart of man
doth cheerfulness impart,
oil that doth make his face to shine,
bread strengthening his heart.
16 The trees of God are full of sap;
the cedars that do stand
on Lebanon, which planted were
by his almighty hand.

17 Birds of the air upon their boughs
do choose their nests to make;
as for the stork, the fir tree she
doth for her dwelling take.
18 The lofty mountains for wild goats
a place of refuge be;
the conies also to the rocks
do for their safety flee.

19 He sets the moon in heaven, thereby
the seasons to discern:
from him the sun his certain time
of going down doth learn.
20 Thou darkness mak’st, ‘tis night, then beasts
of forests creep abroad.
21 The lions young roar for their prey,
and seek their meat from God.

22 The sun doth rise, and home they flock,
down in their dens they lie.
23 Man goeth to his work, and doth
his toil till evening ply.
24 O Lord, how manifold thy works!
In wisdom wonderful
thou every one of them hast made;
earth’s of thy riches full:

25 So is this great and spacious sea,
wherein things creeping are,
which numbered cannot be; and beasts
both great and small are there.
26 There ships go; there leviathan,
which thou mad'st there to play;
27 all wait on thee, that in due time
their food receive they may.

28 That which thou givest unto them
they gather for their food;
thy bounteous hand thou openest,
they filled are with good.
29 Thou hid’st thy face, they troubled are,
their breath thou tak’st away,
then do they die, and to their dust
return again do they.

30 Thy quickening spirit thou send’st forth,
and they created be;
and then the earth’s decayed face
renewed is by thee.
31 The glory of Jehovah shall
endure while ages run;
the Lord Almighty shall rejoice
in all that he hath done.

32 Earth, as affrighted, trembleth all,
if he on it but look;
and if the mountains he but touch,
they presently do smoke.
33 I to the Lord most high will sing,
so long as I shall live;
and while I being have I shall
to my God praises give.

34 Of him my meditation shall
sweet thoughts to me afford;
and as for me, I will rejoice
and triumph in the Lord.
35 From earth let sinners be consumed,
let ill men no more be.
O thou my soul, bless thou the Lord.
Praise to the Lord give ye.

Source: The Irish Presbyterian Hymbook #P104b

Text Information

First Line: Bless God, my soul, O Lord my God
Language: English
Copyright: Public Domain




From William Tans’ur’s A Compleat Melody: or, The Harmony of Sion (London: W. Pearson, for James Hodges, 1735), attributed to him there as composer and/or arranger. Hymn Tune Index no. 1393a. The tune is sometimes attributed to Henry Purcell, although the reasons for that attribution are unclear…

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Instances (1 - 2 of 2)
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The Irish Presbyterian Hymbook #P104a

TextPage Scan

The Irish Presbyterian Hymbook #P104b

Include 9 pre-1979 instances
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