39. 7s. M. Bowring.
Lowly Praise.
1Lord, in heaven, thy dwelling-place,
Hear the praises of our race,
And, while hearing, let thy grace
Dews of sweet forgiveness pour;
While we know, benignant King,
That the praises which we bring
Are a worthless offering
Till thy blessing makes it more.
2More of truth, and more of might,
More of love, and more of light,
More of reason, and of right,
From thy pardoning grace be given!
It can make the humblest song
Sweet, acceptable, and strong,
As the strains the angels' throng
Pour around the throne of heaven.