The tender love a father has For all his children dear, Such love the Lord bestows on them Who worship Him in fear. The Lord remembers we are dust, And all our frailty knows; Man's days are like the tender grass, And as the flower he grows. The flower is withered by the wind That smites with blighting breath; So man is quickly swept away Before the blast of death. Unchanging is the love of God, From age to age the same, Displayed to all who do His will And reverence His Name. Those who His gracious cov'nant keep The Lord will ever bless; Their children's children shall rejoice To see His righteousness.
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