I. Watts


Let every tongue Thy goodness speak,

Thou sovereign Lord of all,

Thy strengthening hands uphold the weak

And raise the poor that fall.


When sorrows bow the spirit down,

When virtue lies distressed;

Beneath the proud oppressor’s frown,

Thou giv’st the mourner rest.


Thou know’st the pains Thy servants feel,

Thou hear’st Thy children’s cry;

And their best wishes to fulfil,

Thy grace is ever nigh.


Thy mercy never shall remove

From men of heart sincere;

Thou sav’st the souls whose humble love

Is joined with holy fear.


My lips shall dwell upon Thy praise,

And spread Thy fame abroad;

Let all the sons of Adam raise

The honors of their God.


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