Praise to God, immortal
Part 1 of Barbauld poem
if you do not hear the tune, click here.
Praise to God, immortal praise,
for the love that crowns our days.
Bounteous Source of every joy,
let thy praise our tongues employ.
For the blessings of the field,
for the stores the gardens yield,
for the joy which harvests bring,
grateful praises now we sing.
Clouds that drop refreshing dews,
suns that genial heat diffuse,
flocks that whiten all the plain,
yellow sheaves of ripened grain,
all that spring, with bounteous hand,
scatters over the smiling land;
all that liberal autumn pours
from her overflowing stores;
these, great God, to thee we owe,
source whence all our blessings flow;
and for these our souls shall raise
grateful vows and solemn praise.
go to Part 2 of this same poem in hymn form - different tune
#91 in Hymnal: A Worship Book
L. Barbauld, Hymns
for Public Worship (see Hymn II), 1772
Tune: Asahel Abbot, The Devotional Hymnodist, 1850
return to "Hymns, Psalms, and Spiritual Songs" webpage
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