Where all his beauties you behold,
And sing his name to harps of gold.

Isaac Watts, 1707.


12 Rockingham. L.M.

_Unceasing Praise._ (13)

My God! my King! thy various praise
Shall fill the remnant of my days;
Thy grace employ my humble tongue,
Till death and glory raise the song.

2 The wings of every hour shall bear
Some thankful tribute to thine ear;
And every setting sun shall see
New works of duty, done for thee.

3 But who can speak thy wondrous deeds?
Thy greatness all our thoughts exceeds;
Vast and unsearchable thy ways--
Vast and immortal be thy praise.

Isaac Watts, 1719.


13 Otterbein. L.M.