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C. P. M.

The love of God.

H. Moore.

My God! Thy boundless love I praise;

How bright on high its glories blaze!

How sweetly bloom below!

It streams from thine eternal throne;

Through heaven its joys for ever run,

And o’er the earth they flow.

2 ’Tis love that paints the purple morn,

And bids the clouds, in air upborne,

Their genial drops distill;

In every vernal beam it glows,

And breathes in every gale that blows,

And glides in every rill.

3 But in thy word I see it shine,

With grace and glories more divine,

Proclaiming sins forgiven;

There, Faith, bright cherub, points the way

To realms of everlasting day,

And opens all her heaven.

4 Then let the love, that makes me blest,

With cheerful praise inspire my breast,

And ardent gratitude;

And all my thoughts and passions tend

To thee, my Father and my Friend,

My soul’s eternal good.

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