I’ll Praise My Maker While I’ve Breath

I’ll praise my Maker while I’ve breath,
And when my voice is lost in death,

I’ll praise my Maker while I’ve breath,
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my nobler powers;
My days of praise shall ne’er be past,
While life, and thought, and being last,
Or immortality endures.

Happy the man whose hopes rely
On Israel’s God: he made the sky,
And earth, and seas, with all their train;
His truth for ever stands secure,
He saves the opprest, he feeds the poor,
And none shall find his promise vain.

The Lord pours eye-sight on the blind;
The Lord supports the fainting mind;
He sends the labouring conscience peace;
He helps the stranger in distress,
The widow, and the fatherless,
And grants the prisoner sweet release.

I’ll praise him while he lends me breath,
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my nobler powers;
My days of praise shall ne’er be past,
While life, and thought, and being last,
Or immortality endures.

Psalm cxlvi.

Isaac Watts