PSALM CIII.

George Burgess

The Lord forgives thy guilty stain,
And breaks thy fierce disease's sway,
Redeems thy life from ruin's chain,
And crowns with love thy peaceful day.

He feasts thy lips with blessings sweet,
And nerves thy frame to eagle youth;
He guides the guiltless victim's feet,
And shields the cause of fainting truth.

To Moses' eye he shew'd his path,
His deeds to Israel's chosen race:
How kind his love, how slow his wrath,
How rich the Lord's abounding grace!

He will not evermore upbraid,
Nor stretch his wrath to distant time;
He hath not all our sins repaid,
Nor giv'n the just reward of crime.

For look, how high the heav'n above
O'er earth and sea its arch extends;
So far the Lord's enfolding love
Around his shelter'd servants bends.

And look, how far from East to West
The circling sun his journey goes;
So far our Maker's gracious breast
Our sins' forgotten burden throws.

As melts a father's bosom mild,
So melts the Lord o'er them that pray:
He knows how frail his mortal child,
And pitying sees our frame of clay.

The days of man are like the grass,
A flow'r that rises, fair and green;
The winds along the meadows pass,
And where it bloom'd no more is seen.

But God's eternal love o'erspreads
The race that keep his cov'nant true;
And children's children on their heads
Receive his blessing's kindly dew.

He sends his righteous succour nigh,
And owns his faithful servants' call;
The Lord, whose throne is fix'd on high,
Whose broad dominion circles all.

Oh, bless the Lord, ye angels strong,
Who hear his voice, his word fulfil;
Oh, bless the Lord, ye glorious throng,
Who speed to bear his sov'reign will;

Oh, bless the Lord, ye hosts of light,
And far as e'er your chariots roll,
Let all his works adore his might;
Bless thou the Lord, my grateful soul!