ELHB Hymn 77
My soul, repeat His praise
Isaac Watts (1719)
Hymn Text
77. My soul, repeat His praise
Text and metadata are organized from Hymnary’s ELHB index pages and ELHL1918 instance pages.
1 My soul, repeat His praise,
Whose mercies are so great;
Whose anger is so slow to rise,
So ready to abate.
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 our crimes,
And lighter than our guilt.
And, when His wrath is felt,
His strokes are fewer than our 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.
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.
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.
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.
Or like the morning flower;
If one sharp blast sweep o'er the field,
It withers in an hour.
Source noted on Hymnary: Evangelical Lutheran Hymn-book #77