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My God, my King, thy various Praise
Shall fill the Remnant of my Days; Thy Grace employ my humble Tongue,
'Till Death and Glory raise the Song. 2 The Wings of ev'ry Hour shall bear
Some thankful Tribute to thine Ear;
New Works of Duty done for thee.
But dreadful to the stubborn Foe.
The Sound and Honour of thy Name. 5 Let diftant Times and Nations raise
The long Succeffion of thy Praise;
1. I'LL praise my Maker with
my Breath; And when my Voice is loft in Death,
Praise shall employ my nobler Pow'rs; My Days of Praite shall ne'er be part, While Life, and Thought, and Being laft,
Or Immortality endures. 2 Why fhould I make a Man my Truft? Princes must die and turn to Dust:
Vain is the Help of Flesh and Blood; Their Breath departs, their Pomp and Pow's, And Thoughts, ali yanith in an Hour,
Nor can they make their Promise good. 3 Happy the Man whofe Hopes rely On Israel's God: He made the Sky,
AndEarth, andSeas, with all their Train;
And none Thall find his Promise vain, 4 The Lord hath Eyes to give the Blind; The Lord supports the sinking Mind;
He sends the lab'ring Conscience Peace,
And grants the Pris'ner sweet Release. 5 He loves bis Saints, he knows them well, But turns the Wicked down to Hell ;
Thy God, o Zion, ever reigns : Let ey’ry Tongue; let ev'ry Age,
In this exalted Work engage;
Praise him in everlasting Strains. 6 I'll praise him while he lends me Breath, And when mv Voice is loft in Death,
Praise shall employ my, nobler Pow'rs: My Days of Praise fhalt ne'er be past, While Life, and Thought, and Being lalt, Or Immortality endures.
Η Υ Μ Ν III. 'ETERNAL Source of ev'ry Joy!
Well may thy Praife our Lips employ, While in thy Temple we appear;
Thy Goudness crowns the circling Year. 2 Wide as the Wheels of Nature roll,
Thy Hand fupports the steddy Pole;
And Darkness when to veil the Skies.
To raise the Corn, and cheer the Vine. 4 Seasons, and Months, and Weeks, and Days,
Demand fucceffive Songs of Praise;