LYRICS
| Meter: | 6 6 8 6 (S.M.)
| | Writer(s): | Isaac Watts
| | Transl/Adapt: |
| | Dates: | 1719
| | Bible Refs: | Ps 103; Rm 5:14-15
| A Collection of Hymns (Methodist)
| 1889
| 610
| Australian Hymn Book/With One Voice
| 1977
| 63
| Church Hymnal Revised
| 1920
| 443
| Evangelical Lutheran Hymnary
| 1996
| 60
| Hymns for Today's Church 2
| 1988
| 34
| Hymns of Faith
| 1964
| 27
| Methodist Hymn Book - Hymns
| 1954
| 424
| Psalms and Hymns of Isaac Watts - Psalms
|
| 103
| The Hymnal 1916
| 1916
| 318
| Together in Song: The Australian HB II
| 1999
| 64
| Trinity Hymnal
| 1961
| 72
|
MUSIC
| Name: | VENICE
| | Meter: | 6 6 8 6 (S.M.)
| | Writer(s): | William Amps
| | Dates: | 1853
|
 Hymns and Psalms with SA Sup.
| 156
| D
| Hymns of Faith
| 27
| Eb
| Hymns and Psalms with SA Sup.
| 449
| Eb
| Believers Hymn Book
| 242
| Eb
|
Alternate Tunes
|
| 1. O bless the Lord, my soul!
Let all within me join,
And aid my tongue to bless His Name
Whose favors are divine.
2. O bless the Lord, my soul,
Nor let His mercies lie
Forgotten in unthankfulness,
And without praises die.
3. ‘Tis He forgives thy sins,
‘Tis He relieves thy pain,
‘Tis He that heals thy sicknesses
And makes thee young again.
4. He crowns thy life with love,
When ransomed from the grave;
He that redeemed my soul from hell
Hath sovereign power to save.
5. He fills the poor with good,
He gives the suff’rers rest;
The Lord hath judgments for the proud,
And justice for th’oppressed.
6. His wondrous works and ways
He made by Moses known
But sent the world His truth and grace
By His belovèd Son.
7. My soul, repeat His praise,
Whose mercies are so great,
Whose anger is so slow to rise,
So ready to abate.
8. God will not always chide;
And when His strokes are felt,
His strokes are fewer than our crimes.
And lighter than our guilt.
9. High as the heavens are raised
Above the ground we tread
So far the riches of His grace
Our highest thoughts exceed.
10. The pity of the Lord
To those that fear His name
Is such as tender parents feel;
He knows our feeble frame.
11. 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.
12. But thy compassions, Lord,
To endless years endure;
And children's children ever find
Thy words of promise sure.
|