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Oh, praise the Lord, the God of grace,
The Saviour of our fallen race;
Who saw us in the desert roam,
And sought and brought us safely home.
He found us hungry, and he fed
Our fainting souls with living bread,
The milk, the manna of his word:
Oh that all hearts would praise the Lord.
The Lord the lonely captive cheers!
The Lord dries up the mourner’s tears:
Binds every wound, bursts every chain,
And helps where other help is vain.
There is no grief he cannot heal
No curse his grace may not repeal;
The feeblest prayer by him is heard;
Oh that all hearts would praise the Lord.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 8 8 8 (L.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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Ps 107;
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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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| 1853 | # 419 |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
