Lilacs and Praise to God, immortal praise and There’s a home far away in the land of the blest

Praise to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days!
Bounteous Source of every joy,
Let thy praise our tongues employ.

For the blessings of the field,
For the stores the gardens yield;
For the fruits in full supply,
Ripened ‘neath the summer sky;

All that spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o’er the smiling land;
All that liberal autumn pours
From her rich, o’erflowing stores;

These to thee, my God, we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow;
And for these my soul shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.

Should thine altered hand restrain
The early and the latter rain;
Blast each opening bud of joy,
And the rising year destroy;

Yet to thee my soul should raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise;
And, when every blessing’s flown,
Love thee for thyself alone.

     Mrs. Anna L. Barbauld, alt.



ALSO A DIFFERENT VERSION

Praise to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days;
Bounteous source of ev’ry joy,
Let thy praise our tongues employ.

Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow sheaves of ripened grain;
Clouds that drop their fattening dews,
Suns that temperate warmth diffuse.

All that spring with beauteous hand
Scatters o’er the smiling land;
All that liberal autumn pours
From her rich o’erflowing stores,-

These to thee, my God, we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow;
And for these my soul shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.

Lord, for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise;
And when every blessing’s flown,
Love thee for thyself alone.

     Anna Laetitia Barbauld



There’s a home far away in the land of the blest,
That is free from temptation and sin,
And I want to go there to be ever at rest,
With the ransomed all safe gathered in.

Yes, that beautiful home I shall see by and by,
Where no sorrow can ever oppress,
There no tears will be shed, there no words come goodbye,
But with Jesus I’ll rest, sweetly rest.

Oh, how sweet it will be when my Saviour I see,
As He sits on His beautiful throne,
All arrayed in His splendor, what glory there’ll be
In that home where no parting will come.

Chorus:
To be there, to be there,
With my Saviour His glory to share,
In that home, beautiful home,
Oh, how sweet it will be to be there.

R. A. Glenn