How pleasant is the sound of praise

How pleasant is the sound of praise!

It well becomes the saints of God;

Should we refuse our songs to raise

The stones might tell our shame abroad.

For Him Who washed us in His blood

Let us our sweetest songs prepare;

He sought us wandering far from God

And now preserves us by His care.

One string there is of sweetest tone

Reserved for sinners saved by grace;

’Tis sacred to one class alone

And touched by one peculiar race.

Though angels may with rapture see

How mercy flows in Jesus’ blood

It is not theirs to prove

as we

The cleansing virtue of this flood.

Though angels praise the heavenly King

And worship Him as God alone

We can with exultation sing

“He wears our nature on the throne.”

Lord

we adore Thy wondrous love

Which brought Thee here to bleed and die

That Thou lost sinners may restore

And to the Father bring them nigh.