My God, my King, thy various praise
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My God, my King, thy various praise Shall fill the remnant of my days; Thy grace employ my humble tongue, Till death and glory raise the song. The wings of every hour shall bear Some thankful tribute to thine ear, And every setting sun shall see New works of duty done for thee. Thy truth and justice I'll proclaim; Thy bounty flows, an endless stream; Thy mercy swift, thine anger slow, But dreadful to the stubborn foe. But who can speak thy wondrous deeds? Thy greatness all our thoughts exceeds; Vast and unsearchable thy ways, Vast and immortal be thy praise. |
Per quot manent mihi dies tu laudem, Rex Deus, feres; movebit linguam gratia, elatus dum canam supra. Grates, quot horae, quas agam ascendent aurem ad tuam; nec sol occluserit diem quin opus tibi dedicem. Te verum iustum proferam et largitatis copiam, qui parcis quam furis prius, es dirus obsistentibus. Sed miris es operibus nec menti nostrae pervius; vasta, haud scrutanda, quae facis perpetuo laudabilis. |