god

Soul, dost thou shudder at the narrow tomb?
Heart, dost thou dread to moulder in the dust—
To meet the fate that all things mortal must,
Strength in its pride, and beauty in its bloom?
What have ye done to merit nobler doom?
How used one life that ye for more should lust?
Time in his course doth all things downward thrust:
The unborn generations wait for room!
Blind we were born, blind die: yet we must still
Take God to task with Whither? Whence? and Why?
What if God, giving us our wish and will,

High in the heav'ns, eternal God,
Thy goodness in full glory shines;
Thy truth shall break through ev'ry cloud
That veils and darkens thy designs.

For ever firm thy justice stands,
As mountains their foundations keep;
Wise are the wonders of thy hands;
Thy judgments are a mighty deep.

Thy providence is kind and large,
Both man and beast thy bounty share;
The whole creation is thy charge,
But saints are thy peculiar care.

My God! how excellent thy grace,

Now plead my cause, Almighty God,
With all the sons of strife;
And fight against the men of blood,
Who fight against my life.

Draw out thy spear and stop their way,
Lift thine avenging rod;
But to my soul in mercv say,
"I am thy Savior God!"

They plant their snares to catch my feet,
And nets of mischief spread;
Plunge the destroyers in the pit
That their own hands have made.

Let fogs and darkness hide their way,
And slipp'ry be their ground;
Thy wrath shall make their lives a prey,

Lord, I will bless thee all my days,
Thy praise shall dwell upon my tongue;
My soul shall glory in thy grace,
While saints rejoice to hear the song.

Come, magnify the Lord with me,
Come, let us all exalt his name;
I sought th'eternal God, and he
Has not exposed my hope to shame.

I told him all my secret grief,
My secret groaning reached his ears;
He gave my inward pains relief;
And calmed the tumult of my fears.

To him the poor lift up their eyes,
Their faces feel the heav'nly shine;

Rejoice, ye righteous, in the Lord,
This work belongs to you;
Sing of his name, his ways, his word,
How holy, just, and true.

His mercy and his righteousness
Let heav'n and earth proclaim;
His works of nature and of grace
Reveal his wondrous name.

His wisdom and almighty word
The heav'nly arches spread,
And by the Spirit of the Lord
Their shining hosts were made.

He bid the liquid waters flow
To their appointed deep;
The flowing seas their limits know
And their own station keep.

Happy the man to whom his God
No more imputes his sin,
But, washed in the Redeemer's blood,
Hath made his garments clean.

Happy beyond expression he
Who debts are thus discharged;
And from the guilty bondage free,
He feels his soul enlarged.

His spirit hates deceit and lies,
His words are all sincere;
He guards his heart, he guards his eyes,
To keep his conscience clear.

While I my inward guilt suppressed,
No quiet could I find;
Thy wrath lay burning in my breast,

God is the refuge of his saints,
When storms of sharp distress invade;
Ere we can offer our complaints,
Behold him present with his aid!

Let mountains from their seats be hurled
Down to the deep, and buried there,
Convulsions shake the solid world,
Our faith shall never yield to fear.

Loud may the troubled ocean roar;
In sacred peace our souls abide;
While every nation, every shore,
Trembles, and dreads the swelling tide.

There is a stream, whose gentle flow
Supplies the city of our God,

O Lord, our Lord, how wondrous great
Is thine exalted name!
The glories of thy heav'nly state
Let men and babes proclaim.

When I behold thy works on high
The moon that rules the night,
And stars that well adorn the sky,
Those moving worlds of light.

Lord, what is man, or all his race,
Who dwells so far below,
That thou should visit him with grace,
And love his nature so?

That thine eternal Son should bear
To take a mortal form;
Made lower than His angels are,

Will God for ever east us off?
His wrath for ever smoke
Against the people of' his love,
His little chosen flock?

Think of the tribes so dearly bought
With their Redeemer's blood;
Nor let thy Zion be forgot,
Where once thy glory stood.

Lift up thy feet and march in haste,
Aloud our ruin calls;
See what a wide and fearful waste
Is made within thy walls.

Where once thy churches prayed and sang,
Thy foes profanely roar;
Over thy gates their ensigns hang,
Sad tokens of their power.

Now I 'm convinced the Lord is kind
To men of heart sincere;
Yet once my foolish thoughts repined,
And bordered on despair.

I grieved to see the wicked thrive,
And spoke with angry breath,
"How pleasant and profane they live !
How peaceful is their death !

"With well-fed flesh and haughty eyes,
They lay their fears to sleep;
Against the heav'ns their slanders rise,
While saints in silence weep.

"In vain I lift my hands to pray,
And cleanse my heart in vain;