Original Trinity Hymnal, #112
Praise to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days;
Bounteous Source of every joy,
Let thy praise our tongues employ.
Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain,
Clouds that drop their fatt'ning dews,
Suns that temp'rate warmth diffuse;
All that spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o'er the smiling land;
All that liberal autumn pours
From her rich o'erflowing stores;
These to thee, my God, we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow;
And for these my soul shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.
Sing we to our God above
Praise eternal as his love;
Praise him, all ye heav'nly host,
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
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