Praise, my soul, the King of heaven;
To his feet thy tribute bring;
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
Evermore his praises sing:
Praise the everlasting King.
Praise him for his grace and favour
To our fathers in distress;
Praise him still the same as ever,
Slow to chide, and swift to bless:
Glorious in his faithfulness.
Father-like he tends and spares us;
Well our feeble frame he knows;
In his hand he gently bears us,
Rescues us from all our foes.
Widely yet his mercy flows.
Angels in the height adore him!
Ye behold him face to face;
Saints triumphant bow before him!
Gathered in from every race.
Praise with us the God of grace.
|First Line:||Praise, my soul, the King of heaven|
|Title:||Praise, my soul, the King of heaven|
|Author:||Henry F.Lyte (1834, alt.)|
|Composer:||John Goss (1869)|
|Incipit:||55551 76543 65342|