L.M. sung to Wareham 1 HOW pleasant is the sound of praise! It well becomes the saints of God: Should we refuse our songs to raise, The stones might tell our shame abroad. 2 For Him who washed us in His blood, Let us our sweetest songs prepare; He sought us wandering far from God, And now preserves us by His care. 3 One string there is of sweetest tone, Reserved for sinners saved by grace; 'Tis sacred to one class alone, And touched by one peculiar race. 4 Though angels may with rapture see How mercy flows in Jesus' blood, It is not theirs to prove, as we, The cleansing virtue of this flood. 5 Lord, we adore the wondrous love Which brought Thee here to bleed and die; Soon shall we meet in heaven above, And sing Thy praises in the sky. | Alternative tunes (L.M.) |