By William Cowper
Almighty King! whose wond'rous hand
Supports the weight of sea and land; Whose grace is such a boundless store, No heart shall break that sighs for more;
Thy Providence supplies my food,
And 'tis thy blessing makes it good; My soul is nourish'd by thy word, Let soul and body praise the LORD.
My streams of outward comfort came
From him, who built this earthly frame; Whate'er I want his bounty gives, By whom my soul forever lives.
Either his hand preserves from pain,
Or, if I feel it, heals again; From Satan's malice shields my breast, Or overrules it for the best.
Forgive the song that falls so low
Beneath the gratitude I owe! It means thy praise, however poor, An angel's song can do no more. |
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