Thy Praise, O God, in Zion Waits

Thy praise

O God

in Zi­on waits;

All flesh shall crowd Thy sac­red gates

To of­fer sac­ri­fice and pray­er

And pay their will­ing hom­age there.

What tho’ ini­qui­ty pre­vail

And fee­ble flesh be prone to fail;

Yet

Lord

Thy grace Thou wilt dis­play

And purge each hate­ful stain away.

Blest is the man ap­proved by Thee

And brought Thy ho­ly courts to see!

Goodness

imm­ense and un­con­fined

Shall large­ly feast his long­ing mind.

Great God

by Thy al­migh­ty hand

The ev­er­last­ing mount­ains stand:

And ev­ery storm

and ev­ery flood

Obey Thy all com­mand­ing nod.

Thy lightn­ings flash­ing thro’ the skies

The wide earth fill with sad sur­prise;

But cheered by Thy en­liv­en­ing voice

Rising and set­ting suns re­joice.

From Thy vast

un­ex­haust­ed stores

The earth is blest with kind­ly show­ers;

And sav­age wilds and de­serts drear

Confess Thee

Fa­ther of the year.

The flocks which graze the mount­ain’s brow

The corn which clothes the plains be­low

To ev­ery heart new trans­ports bring

And hills and vales re­joice and sing.