Amid the thronging worshippers
Jehovah will I bless,
Before my breth­ren, ga­thered there,
His name I will con­fess.
Come, praise Him, ye that fear the Lord,
Ye child­ren of His grace,
With re­ver­ence sound His glo­ries forth
And bow be­fore His face.

The bur­den of the sor­row­ful
The Lord will not des­pise;
He has not turned from those that mourn,
He heark­ens to their cries.
His good­ness makes me join the throng
Where saints His praise pro­claim,
And there will I ful­fill my vows
’Mid those who fear His name.

He feeds with good the hum­ble soul
And sa­tis­fies the meek,
And they shall live and praise the Lord
Who for His mer­cy seek.
The ends of all the earth take thought,
The na­tions seek the Lord;
They wor­ship Him, the King of kings,
In earth and Heav’n ad­ored.