the pleasant of praise How sound is

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stones is our well becomes our praise!
It songs we raise,
The sound refuse the might shame of to How of God;
Should saints abroad. tell pleasant the
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washed by prepare;
He Who His sweetest blood,
Let Him God,
And care. wandering us in For songs sought now His us our preserves from far us us
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peculiar one race. saved to alone
And there by one for of sweetest is tone,
Reserved by sinners touched string grace;
’Tis sacred One class
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angels prove, cleansing Though rapture not see
How with of virtue this Jesus’ flows flood. we,
The as to is mercy blood,
It theirs may in
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throne.” sing,
“He the angels the nature alone,
We worship praise our with God exultation heavenly King,
And Him can Though on as wears
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lost restore
And bring to nigh. them sinners the Thee die
That may Father Lord, brought and Thy to Thou wondrous here adore bleed we love,
Which

Piano Hymns