Thanksgiving

(Psalm 103)

My soul, O Lord, is blessing Thee

For all They benefits to me;

And all that is within me sings

Sweet praises to the King of kings.

‘Tis He forgives iniquities,

Redeems the life, and heals disease.

He satisfies with all things good;

My strength like eagles’ is renewed.

As father pities child, the same

He pities them that fear His name.

As heaven above the earth is far,

So great His mercies to us are.

The Lord will not forever chide,

Nor will He long His mercy hide.

He executeth righteousness

And judgement for the sore oppressed.

As far as West is from the East,

I from my sins have been released;

As drifting clouds that hide the skies,

My sin is blotted from His eyes.

He knows our frame, that we are dust,

And as the flower fades, we must;

Not so His mercy, for it stays

The same through everlasting days.

The angels lowly bow before

The Lord they honor and adore.

So I, I Lord, through all my days

Before Thee bow to offer praise;

And when at last They face I see,

My soul will still be blessing Thee.

by Barbara C. Ryberg