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O sing to the Lord,
whose bountiful hand
again doth accord
his gifts to the land.
His clouds have shed down
their plenteousness here,
his goodness shall crown
the hopes of the year.
In clefts of the hills
the founts he hath burst,
and poureth their rills
through valleys athirst.
The river of God
the pastures hath blest,
the dry, withered sod
in greenness is dressed.
And every fold shall teem
with its sheep,
with harvests of gold
the fields shall be deep;
the vales shall rejoice
with laughter and song,
and man's grateful voice
the music prolong.
So too may he pour,
the Last and the First,
his graces in store
on spirits athirst,
till, when the great day
of harvest hath come,
he takes us away
to garner at home.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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10 10 10 10
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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1867
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Bible Refs:
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Ps 147:8;
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
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Song #
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| 1990 | # 472 | | 1906 | # 291 |
MUSIC
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Name:
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67TH PSALM
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Meter:
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10 10 10 10
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Writer(s):
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|
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Dates:
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1615
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echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
