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 co­ve­nant keep
The Lord will ev­er bless;
Their child­ren’s child­ren shall re­joice
To see His right­eous­ness.