Bless, O my soul, the living God.
Call home thy thoughts that rove abroad,
Let all the powers within me join
In work and worship so divine.

Bless, O my soul, the God of grace;
His favors claim thy highest praise:
Why should the wonders He hath wrought
Be lost in silence and forgot?

’Tis He, my soul, that sent His Son
To die for crimes which thou hast done;
He owns the ransom and forgives
The hourly follies of our lives.

The vices of the mind He heals,
And cures the pains that nature feels;
Redeems the soul from hell, and saves
Our wasting life from threatening graves.

Our youth decayed, His power repairs;
His mercy crowns our growing years:
He satisfies our mouth with good,
And fills our hopes with heav’nly food.

He sees th’oppressor and th’oppressed,
And often gives the sufferers rest;
But will His justice more display
In the last great rewarding day.

His power He showed by Moses’ hands,
And gave to Israel His commands;
But sent His truth and mercy down
To all the nations by His Son.

Let the whole earth His power confess.
Let the whole earth adore His grace;
The Gentile with the Jew shall join
In work and worship so divine.