"Singing and making melody in your hearts unto the Lord; giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ."
Oh, that I had a thousand tongues
To sound Thy praise o'er land and sea!
Oh, rich and sweet should be my songs
Of all my God has done for me!
With thankfulness my heart doth often swell,
But mortal lips Thy praises faintly tell.
O all ye powers of soul and mind,
Arise! keep silence thus no more;
Put forth your strength, and ye shall find
Your noblest work is to adore.
O soul and body, make ye pure and meet,
With heartfelt praise your God and Lord to greet.
Ye little leaves, so fresh and green,
That dance for joy in summer air,
Ye slender grasses, bright and keen,
Ye flowers so wondrous sweet and fair,
Ye only live to show your Maker's fame-
Help me His loving-kindness to proclaim.
O all ye living things that throng
With breath and motion earth and sky,
Be ye companions in my song,
Help me to raise His praises high-
For my unaided powers are all too weak
The glories of His mighty works to speak.
And first, O Father, praise to Thee
For all I am and all I have;
It was Thy merciful decree
That all those blessings richly gave,
Which o'er the earth are scattered far and near,
To help and gladden us who sojourn here.
And, precious Jesus, blest be Thou,
Whose heart with pity overflows.
How rich Thy grace! who deign'dst to bow
To earth, and taste its keenest woes:
Thy death has burst my bonds and set me free,
Has made me Thine; henceforth I cling to Thee.
Nor less for Him, the Holy Ghost,
Be everlasting honors paid;.
For all Thy comfort, Lord, and most
That I a child of life am made.
By Thy deep grace my good deeds are-not mine;
Thou workest them through me, O Light divine,
Yes, Lord, through all my changing days,
With each new scene afresh I mark
How wondrously Thou guidest my ways,
Where all seems troubled, 'wildered, dark;
When dangers thicken fast, and hopes depart,
Thy light beams comfort on my sinking heart.
Shall I not then be filled with joy?
Shall I not praise Thee evermore?
Triumphant songs my lips employ
E'en when my cup of woe runs o'er.
Nay, though the heavens should vanish as a scroll,
Nothing shall shake or daunt my trusting soul.
But of Thy goodness will I sing
While I have strength, and life and breath;
Offerings of thanks I'll daily bring
Until Thy coming or my death;
And should at last my lips grow pale and cold,
With my last breath Thy praises should be told.
Father, do Thou in mercy deign
To listen to my humble lays;
Soon shall I learn a nobler strain,
Where angels ever hymn Thy praise.
There, with that radiant throng I too shall sing
Loud hallelujahs to my Lord, the King!
Mentzer, 1704