1 Praise to the Lord on high,
Who spreads his triumphs wide!
While Jesus' fragrant name
Is breathed on every side;
Balmy and rich the odors rise,
And fill the earth and reach the skies.
2 Ten thousand dying souls
Its influence feel, and live;
Sweeter than vital air
The incense they receive:
They breathe anew, and rise and sing--
Jesus, the Lord, their conquering King.
3 But they who scorn the grace
That brings salvation nigh,
And turn away their face,
Must faint, and fall, and die:
So sad a doom, ye saints, deplore;
For oh! they fall to rise no more.
|First Line:||Praise to the Lord on high|
|Topic:||General Praise; The Name of Christ a Sweet Savor|