Hymn 67
I Will Praise the Lord at All Times
I Will Praise the Lord at All Times
Winter has a joy for me,
While the Saviour’s charms I read,
Lowly, meek, from blemish free,
In the snow-drop’s pensive head.
Spring returns, and brings along
Life-invigorating suns:
Hark! the turtle’s plaintive song,
Seems to speak his dying grones!
Summer has a thousand charms,
All expressive of his worth;
’Tis his sun that lights and warms,
His the air that cools the earth.
What! has autumn left to say
Nothing, of a Saviour’s grace?
Yes, the beams of milder day
Tell me of his smiling face.
Light appears with early dawn;
While the sun makes haste to rise,
See his bleeding beauties, drawn
On the blushes of the skies.
Ev’ning, with a silent pace,
Slowly moving in the west,
Shews an emblem of his grace,
Points to an eternal rest.