Praise Ye the Lord.
1 All, from the sun's uprise
Unto his setting rays,
Resound in jubilees
The great Creator's praise!
Him serve alone;
In triumph bring
Your gifts, and sing
Before His throne!
2 Man drew from man his birth;
But God his noble frame,
(Built of the ruddy earth,)
Filled with celestial flame.
His sons we are,
By Him are led,
Preserved and fed
With tender care.
3 Then to His portals press
In your divine resorts;
With thanks His power profess,
And praise Him in His courts.
How good! how pure!
His mercies last;
His promise past
Is ever sure.