Classic Poem

'T O Jehovah, thou my soul
Give the tributary glory:
Mem'ry, all his love enroll,
Crowded is the boundless story.

All thy maladies he heals,
All thy trespasses forgiving:
Death's commission he repeals,
He restores thee to the living.

Healthful viands he bestows,
With new youth thy flesh recruiting;
As an eagle's plumage grows,
With new vigour from their shooting.

With his love thy days are crown'd,
Thy requests are always near him:
High as heav'n above the ground,
Is that love to them who fear him.

They who fear him daily learn,
For their frailties his compassion:
So a father's mercies yearn,
To his children in transgression.

Well he knows their fleshly frame
Of weak elements compounded:
Nor is harsh their souls to blame,
With infirmities surrounded.

What is man? a feeble flow'r
For a season sweetly blooming;
Soon the rugged east wind's pow'r
All its tender life consuming.

In the evening tall and fair,
Gone for ever in the morning;
Seen no more, forgotten where
Once it stood the field adorning.