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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;
And ev'ry setting Sun shall see

New Works of Duty done for thee.
3 Thy Truth and Justice I'll proclaim;
Thy Bounty flows, an endless Stream;
Thy Mercy (wift, thy Anger flow,

But dreadful to the stubborn Foe.
4 Thy Works with fov'reign Glory shine,
And speak thy Majesty divine;
Let Britain round her Shores proclaim

The Sound and Honour of thy Name. 5 Let diftant Times and Nations raise

The long Succeffion of thy Praise;
And unborn Ages make my Song,
The Joy and Labour of their Tongue.
But who can speak thy wond'rous Deeds?
Thy Greatness all our Thoughts exceeds:
Vast and unsearchable thy Ways!
Vaft and immortal be thy Praise!


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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;
His Truth for ever stands feu ure:
He saves th' Oppreft, he feeds the Poor,

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,
He helps the Stranger in Distress,
The Widow and the Fatherless,

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;
The Sun is taught by thee to rise,

And Darkness when to veil the Skies.
3 The flow'ry Spring at thy Command,
Embalms the Air, and paints the Land;
The Summer Rays with Vigour shine,

To raise the Corn, and cheer the Vine. 4 Seasons, and Months, and Weeks, and Days,

Demand fucceffive Songs of Praise;
Still be the cheerful Homage paid,
With op’ning Light and ev’ning Shade.
5 Here in thy House (hall Incense rise,
As circling Sabbaths bless our Eyes;
Still will we make thy Mercies known
Around thy Board, and round our own.

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