Add to My Library Almighty King! whose wondrous hand
Supports the weight of sea and land;
Whose grace is such a boundless store,
No heart shall break that sighs for more;
Thy providence supplies my food,
And tis Thy blessing makes it good;
My soul is by Thy Word,
Let soul and body praise the Lord!
My streams of outward comfort came
From Him who built this earthly frame;
Whateer I want His bounty gives,
By whom my soul for ever lives.
Either His hand preserves from pain,
Or, if I feel it, heals again;
From Satans malice shields my breast,
Or overrules it for the best.
Forgive the song that falls so low
Beneath the gratitude I owe!
It means Thy praise, however poor,
An angels song can do no more.
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