Pity of the Lord { The Pity of the Lord BOYLSTON-Lowell Mason LISBON-Daniel Read ST. BRIDES-Samuel Howard The Pity of the Lord } The pity of the Lord, To those that fear his name, Is such as tender parents feel; He knows our feeble frame. He knows we are but dust, Scattered with every breath: His anger, like a rising wind, Can send us swift to death. Our days are as the grass, Or like the morning flower: If one sharp blast sweep o'er the field It withers in an hour. But thy compassions, Lord, To endless years endure; And children's children ever find Thy words of promise sure.