1 The Lord abounds with tender love,
And unexampled acts of grace:
His waken'd wrath doth slowly move,
His willing mercy flows apace.
2 God will not always harshly chide,
But with his anger quickly part;
And loves his punishments to guide,
More by his love than our desert.
3 As high as heav'n its arch extends
Above this little spot of clay,
So much his boundless love transcends
The small respects that we can pay.
4 As far as 'tis from east to west,
So far has he our sins remov'd;
Who with a father's tender breast,
Has such as fear him always lov'd.