I hope you had a Happy Thanksgiving day yesterday. It is by the Lord's mercies we are not consumed. His compassions do not fail.
Abounding Compassion of God; or, Mercy in the Midst of Judgment
My soul, repeat his praise,
Whose mercies are so great,
Whose anger is so slow to rise,
So ready to abate.
God will not always chide;
And when his strokes are felt,
His strokes are fewer than our crimes,
And lighter than our guilt.
High as the heav'ns are raised
Above the ground we tread,
So far the riches of his grace
Our highest thoughts exceed.
His power subdues our sins,
And his forgiving love
Far as the east is from the west
Doth all our guilt remove.
The pity of the Lord,
To those that fear his name,
Is such as tender parents feel;
He knows our feeble frame.
He knows we are but dust,
Scattered with every breath;
His anger, like a rising wind,
Can send us swift to death.
Our days are as the grass,
Or like the morning flower;
If one sharp blast sweep o'er the field
It withers in an hour.
But thy compassions, Lord,
To endless years endure;
And children's children ever find
Thy words of promise sure.
-- Isaac Watts, 1719
2 comments:
Awesome, thrilling words! I don't expose myself to them as often as I might like but I love those old hymns! I assume this is a hymn. They have such deep, rich, glorious truth in them.
I just wanted to stop by and say hello! I trust you and yours are enjoying all that our Great Father has for you at this time. We (I) have so much to be thankful for, God is soooooooo good aaaaaaaaaall the time!!!
Love you Brother
Blessings
James
So good to hear from you. God bless.
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