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Van Deusen/Kosinski Collection

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PAGE 174:

PSALM 102. Third Part. L.M.
The saints die, but Christ and the church live. (cont.)

  4 This earth grows old, these heav'ns shall fade,
And all be chang'd at his command.
  5 The starry curtains of the sky,
Like garments, shall be laid aside;
But still thy throne stands firm and high;
Thy church for ever must abide.
  6 Before thy face thy church shall live,
And on thy throne thy children reign:
This dying world shall they survive,
And the dead saints be rais'd again.

PSALM 103. First Part. S.M.
Praise for spiritual and temporal mercies.

  1 O BLESS the Lord, my soul!
   Let all within me join:
And aid my tongue to bless his name,
   Whose favours are divine.
  2 O bless the Lord, my soul!
   Nor let his mercies lie
Forgotten in unthankfulness,
   And without praises die.
  3 'Tis he forgives thy sins;
   'Tis he relieves thy pain;
'Tis he that heals thy sicknesses,
   And makes thee young again.
  4 He crowns thy life with love,
   When ransom'd from the grave;
He, that redeem'd my soul from hell,
   Hath sov'reign pow'r to save.
  5 He fills the poor with good,
   He gives the suff'rers rest;
The Lord hath judgments for the proud,
   And justice for th' opprest.
  6 His wondrous works and ways
   He made by Moses known;

PAGE 175

PSALM 103. First Part. S.M.
Praise for spiritual and temporal mercies. (cont.)

  6 But sent the world his truth and grace,
   By his beloved Son.

PSALM 103. Second Part. S.M.
Mercy in the midst of judgment.

  1 MY soul, repeat his praise,
   Whose mercies are so great;
Whose anger is so slow to rise,
   So ready to abate.
  2 God will not always chide:
   And when his strokes are felt,
His strokes are fewer than our crimes,
   And lighter than our guilt.
  3 High as the heav'ns are rais'd
   Above the ground we tread;
So far the riches of his grace
   Our highest thoughts exceed.
  4 His pow'r subdues our sins:
   And his forgiving love,
Far as the east is from the west,
   Doth all our guilt remove.
  5 The pity of the Lord,
   To those that fear his name,
Is such, as tender parents feel:
   He knows our feeble frame,
  6 He knows we are but dust,
   Scatter'd with ev'ry breath;
His anger, like a rising wind.
   Can send us swift to death,
  7 Our days are as the grass,
   Or like the morning flow'r:
If one sharp blast sweep o'er the field,
   It withers in an hour.
  8 But thy compassions, Lord,
   T0 endless years endure:

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   Psalm 103


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