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Poem	Praise to God for his goodness and truth. Praise ye the Lord, my heart shall join In work so pleasant, so divine; Now, while the flesh is mine abode, And when my soul ascends to God. Praise shall employ my noblest powers, While immortality endures; My days of praise shall ne'er be past, While life, and thought, and being last. Why should I make a man my trust? Princes must die and turn to dust; Their breath departs, their pomp, and power, And thoughts, all vanish in an hour. Happy the man whose hopes rely On Isr'el's God; he made the sky, And earth, and seas, with all their train, And none shall find his promise vain. His truth for ever stands secure; He saves th' oppressed, he feeds the poor; He sends the lab'ring conscience peace, And grants the pris'ner sweet release. The Lord hath eyes to give the blind; The Lord supports the sinking mind; He helps the stranger in distress, The widow and the fatherless. He loves his saints, he knows them well, But turns the wicked down to hell: Thy God, O Zion! ever reigns; Praise him in everlasting strains.
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