My God, My King, To Thee I'll Raise

I. My God, my king, to thee I’ll raise
My voice, and all my pow’rs;
Unwearied songs of sacred praise
Shall fill the circling hours.

II. Thy name shall dwell upon my tongue,
While suns shall set and rise,
And tune my everlasting song,
When time and nature dies.

III. Great is the Lord! our souls adore,
We wonder whilst we praise!
His pow’r what creature can explore,
Or equal honours raise?

IV. Yet shall thy works, almighty Lord,
Our noblest songs adorn;
Thy glorious acts we will record,
For ages yet unborn.

V. Thy praise shall be my awful theme,
The wonders of thy pow’r;
I’ll speak the honours of thy name,
And bid the world adore.

VI. The men that hear my sacred lyre,
Shall spread thy praises round;
While thy tremendous deeds inspire
To notes of solemn sound.

VII. But sweetly flowing strains shall tell
The riches of thy grace;
And songs of grateful joy reveal
Thy spotless righteousness.

VIII. How full the Lord’s compassions flow!
His wrath, how slow to rise!
Swift pardon smiles upon his brow,
And guilt and terror dies.

IX. How large his tender mercies are!
How wide his pow’r extends!
On his beneficence and care
The universe depends.

X. Great God, whilst nature speaks thy praise,
With all her num’rous tongues,
Thy saints shall tune diviner lays,
And love inspire their songs.

XI. Thy pow’r and grandeur they shall sing,
The glories of thy reign;
Thy wond’rous deeds, almighty King,
Shall fill the raptur’d strain.

XII. Thy kingdom, Lord, for ever stands,
While earthly thrones decay;
And time submits to thy commands,
While ages roll away.

XIII. The falling saint, with pow’rful grace,
The God of love will raise;
The humble, bending with distress,
Shall rise and speak his praise.

XIV. To thee, O Lord, for daily meat,
Thy creatures lift their eyes;
On thee, their common Father, wait,
From thee, receive supplies.

XV. Thy sov’reign bounty freely gives
It’s inexhausted store;
And universal nature lives
On thy sustaining pow’r.

XVI. Holy and just in all its ways,
Is providence divine;
In all its works, immortal rays
Of pow’r and mercy shine.

XVII. Whoe’er invokes the God of grace,
Shall find him ever near;
To all that humbly seek his face
He lends a pitying ear.

XVIII. His pitying ear attends the cry
Of those who fear his name;
Their ev’ry want he will supply,
And raise their sinking frame.

XIX. How blest in his protecting care,
The souls who love the Lord!
While impious men his vengeance dare,
And die beneath his sword.

XX. The praise of God, delightful theme!
Shall fill my heart and tongue;
Let all creation bless his name,
In one eternal song.

Added by

My God, My King, To Thee I’ll Raise