Words: James Merrick (1720–1769).
If you have access to a good picture of Merrick (head-and-shoulders, at least 200×300 pixels), would you send us an e-mail?
Far as creation’s bounds extend,
Thy mercies, heavenly Lord, descend;
One chorus of perpetual praise
To Thee thy various works shall raise,
Thy saints to Thee in hymns impart
The transports of a grateful heart.
The splendors of Thy kingdom tell,
Delighted on Thy wonders tell;
And bid the world’s wide realm admire
The glories of th’Almighty Sire,
Whose throne all nature’s wreck survives,
Whose power through endless ages lives.
Thy promise truth eternal guides,
And mercy o’er each act presides;
The feet, whose steps to lapse incline,
With faithful care Thy arm divine
Shall prop; the spirit bowed with woe
Thy all supporting aid shall know.
From Thee, great God, while every eye
Expectant waits the wished supply,
Their bread proportioned to the day,
Thy opening hands to each convey;
In every sorrow of the heart
Eternal mercy bears a part.
Who ask Thine aid with heart sincere,
Thee ever gracious, ever near;
Shall own; their prayer, in each distress,
To Thee, Thy servants, Lord, address;
And find Thee (verging on the grave)
Nor slow to hear, nor weak to save.