Poems (Follen)/The One Hundred and Third Psalm

by Eliza Lee Cabot Follen

THE ONE HUNDRED AND THIRD PSALM.

O bless the Lord! my soul, O bless
 His holy, holy name:
Rejoice his mercies to confess,
 His praises to proclaim;—

Who pardons all thy sins, whose breath
 Does thy disease remove,
Redeems thy trembling soul from death,
 And crowns thee with his love.

He makes thy cup o'erflow with good;
 So that thy failing days
Are like the eagle's strength renewed:
 O, let them show his praise!

He measures not his bounteous grace
 According to our sins:
Repentant tears our stains efface,
 A sigh his pardon wins.

As far as is the fading west
 From where the day begins,
So far, from those who have trangressed,
 Has he removed their sins.

Like as a tender father bends
 With pity o'er his child,
To humble hearts he condescends
 To be thus reconciled.

Then let us praise his holy name:
 Our Father, kind as just,
He knows his children's feeble frame,
 Remembers we are dust.

The days of man are like the grass,
 And like a flower he blooms:
The evening winds that o'er it pass,
 Shall waft its last perfume.

But God's eternal, boundless love
 From everlasting stands:
His mercy children's children prove,
 Who follow his commands.

His throne is in the heavens on high;
 He hath prepared it there;
His kingdom,—earth, and sea, and sky:
 He reigneth everywhere.

All ye, his angels, bless the Lord!
 Ye who in strength excel,
Who hearken to his holy word,
 And in his presence dwell.

O, bless the Lord, ye hosts above,
 Who execute his will;
Ye ministers of his, who love
 His pleasure to fulfil.

To bless the Lord all places join,
 Beneath his wide control;
O, bless the Lord, his works divine;
 O, bless the Lord, ray soul!