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Behold, what pity parents do
unto their children bear,
Like pity beareth God to such
as worship him in fear.
The Lord that made us knows our shape,
our mould and fashion just,
How weak and frail our nature is,
and that we are but dust:
And now the time of mortal men
is like the with'ring hay,
Or like the flow'r right fair in field,
that fadeth soon away;
Whose gloss and beauty stormy winds
do utterly deface,
And make that after their assaults
such blossoms have no place.
But yet the goodness of the Lord
with his shall ever stand;
Their children's children do receive
his righteousness at hand:
I mean who keep his covenant
with all their whole desire,
And not forget to do the thing
that he doth them require.
The heav'ns most high are made the seat
and footstool of the Lord;
And by his pow'r imperial
he governs all the world.
Ye angels that are great in pow'r,
praise ye, and bless the Lord,
Who to obey and do his will
immediately accord.
Ye noble hosts and ministers,
cease not to praise him still,
Who ready are to execute
his pleasure and his will:
Yea, all his works in ev'ry place,
praise ye his holy Name;
My thankful heart, my mind and soul,
praise ye also the same.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 6 8 6 (C.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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1549,1812
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Bible Refs:
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Ps 103:13-22;
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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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| 1812 | # 103 |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
