I’ll Praise My Maker While I’ve Breath 

Congregational singing
Metropolitan Tabernacle, London
Text: Isaac Watts | Tune: MONMOUTH
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.
Why should I place in man my trust?
Princes must die and turn to dust;
Vain is the help of flesh and blood:
Their breath departs, their pomp and power,
Their thoughts are gone within an hour,
Nor can they make their promise good.
Happy are they 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 oppressed, He feeds the poor,
And none shall find His promise vain.
The Lord has eyes to give the blind;
The Lord supports the sinking 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 146)