Grant me, God, a tongue to praise you
Grant me, God, a tongue to praise you,
that resoundingly displays you
with a psalmist’s art!
so that I may feel with gladness
he who lauds you knows no sadness,
has an upright heart!
Heav’n your glory is proclaiming,
may I too in praise be naming
you when day is nigh!
and when evening bells are ringing
may my song like larks be winging
through the twilight sky!
There’s no man or beast whatever
for your loving kindness ever
ample praise can show,
you to us in joy and sorrow
give both now as on the morrow
more than angels know!
At your marvels we but wonder,
at your wisdom all must ponder
who have had full share,
only fools seek to conceal
everything with you is real
and beyond compare!
As the grass is every sinner,
ends while he is but beginner,
fades while yet it’s spring,
even heavens are time’s minion,
but in your divine dominion
you are always King!
All your foes will soon be shattered,
yea, as chaff they will be scattered
to earth’s farthest end,
while old age will without ceasing
witness wondrous powers increasing
with your trusted friend!
Foes scarce reel before they tumble.
O’er their graves we, glad and humble,
listen to your word:
As a palm or cedar growing,
righteousness is outward flowing,
covering the earth!
See, from your great forcing houses,
outdoors where the storm carouses,
planted shoots take root!
And, when white as snow appearing,
they will for their Lord be bearing
all their winter fruit!
Even though the days be dour,
in your orchards there will flower
every shoot and bud,
in old age their fruit be bearing,
with the hills and woods declaring:
God is wise and good!