O PRAISE the Lord, 'tis sweet to raise

O PRAISE the Lord, 'tis sweet to raise The grateful heart to God in praise; When fallen raised, when lost restored, Oh! it is sweet to praise the Lord!

Great is His power, divine His skill, His love diviner, greater still; The sinner's Friend, the mourner's stay, He sends no suppliant sad away.

The lions roar to Him for bread, The ravens by His hand are fed; And shall His chosen flock despair? Shall they mistrust their Shepherd's care?

His church is precious in His sight; He makes her glory His delight; His treasures on her head are pour'd; O Zion's children, praise the Lord,