489 Ridge
I'll praise my Maker with my breath; And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall employ my nobler pow'rs: My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last, Or immortality endures. How blest the man whose hopes rely On Israel's God! He made the sky, And earth and seas, with all their train: His truth for ever stands secure, He saves th'oppressed, He feeds the poor, And none shall find His promise vain. I'll praise Him while He lends me breath; And when my voice is lost in death, Praise shall employ my nobler pow'rs; My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last, Or immortality endures. |