Praise to God, immortal praise, For the love that crowns our days; Bounteous Source of every joy, Let Thy praise our tongues employ.
Flocks that whiten all the plain; Yellow sheaves of ripened grain; Clouds that drop their fattening dews, Suns that temperate warmth diffuse.
All that Spring with bounteous hand Scatters o’er the smiling land; All that liberal Autumn pours From her rich o’erflowing stores.
These to Thee, my God, we owe, Source whence all our blessings flow; And for these my soul shall raise Grateful vows and solemn praise.
Yet, should rising whirlwinds tear From its stem the ripening ear; Should the fig tree’s blasted shoot Drop her green untimely fruit,
Should the vine put forth no more, Nor the olive yield her store; Though the sickening flocks should fall, And the herds desert the stall,
Yet to Thee my soul shall raise Grateful vows and solemn praise; And, when every blessing’s flown Love Thee for Thyself alone.
Praise To God, Immortal Praise Hymn
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Praise To God, Immortal Praise, an online song of praise and worship
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Praise To God, Immortal Praise - a traditional and classic online hymn
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