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Hymn/Song Information

Praise to God Immortal Praise For the love that




Praise to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days;
Bounteous Source of every joy,
Let Thy praise our tongues employ.


For the blessings of the field,
For the stores the gardens yield;
For the vine’s exalted juice,
For the generous olive’s use.


Flocks that whiten all the plain;
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain;
Clouds that drop their fattening dews,
Suns that temperate warmth diffuse.


All that Spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o’er the smiling land;
All that liberal Autumn pours
From her rich o’erflowing stores.


These to Thee, my God, we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow;
And for these my soul shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.


Yet, should rising whirlwinds tear
From its stem the ripening ear;
Should the fig tree’s blasted shoot
Drop her green untimely fruit,


Should the vine put forth no more,
Nor the olive yield her store;
Though the sickening flocks should fall,
And the herds desert the stall,


Yet to Thee my soul shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise;
And, when every blessing’s flown
Love Thee for Thyself alone.


Sing we to our God above
Praise eternal as his love;
Praise him, all ye heav'nly host,
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.


These to Thee, my God, we owe,
Source from whence our comforts flow;
These, through all our happy days,
Claim our songs of love and praise.


---Alternative verses---


For the blessings of the field,
For the stores our gardens yield,
Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain;


For the blessings of the field,
For the stores the gardens yield;
For the fruits in full supply,
Ripened 'neath the summer sky:—


For the blessings of the field,
For the stores the gardens yield;
For the joy which harvests bring,
Grateful praises now we sing.


Clouds that drop refreshing dews;
Suns that genial heat diffuse;
Flocks that whiten all the plain;
Yellow sheaves of ripening grain;


Flowers that blossom fresh and fair,
Scenting all the fragrant air;
Clouds that drop refreshing dews,
Sunbeams that their warmth diffuse.


All that Spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o’er the smiling land;
All that liberal Autumn pours
From her rich and varied stores.


All that Spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o’er the smiling land;
All that liberal Autumn pours
From her overflowing stores.


These, great God, to thee we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow;
And for these my soul shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.


These to Thee, O God, we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow;
And for these our souls now raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.


Should thine altered hand restrain
The early and the latter rain;
Blast each opening bud of joy,
And the rising year destroy.


Still to thee our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise;
And, when every blessing’s flown,
Love thee —for thyself alone.

marker 99
LYRICS
Meter: 7 7 7 7
Writer(s):
    Trans/Adapted:
      Dates: 1772
      Bible Refs: Ps 65; Ps 67:3;
      MUSIC
      Name: NUREMBURG
      Meter: 7 7 7 7
      Writer(s):
        Dates: 1664
        SCORE PREVIEW
        score
        ALTERNATIVE TUNES
        Name meter
        7 7 7 7
        7 7 7 7
        7 7 7 7
        7 7 7 7
        7 7 7 7
        7 7 7 7 D
        7 7 7 7
        7 7 7 7 D
        echo '
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