Into Thine hand, O God of truth,
My spir­it I com­mit;
Thou hast re­deemed my soul from death,
And saved me from the pit.

The pas­sions of my hope and fear
Maintained a doubt­ful strife,
While sor­row, pain, and sin con­spired
To take away my life.

My times are in Thine hand, I cried,
Though I draw near the dust;
Thou art the re­fuge where I hide,
The God in whom I trust.

O make Thy re­con­cil­èd face
Upon Thy ser­vant shine,
And save me for Thy mer­cy’s sake,
For I’m en­tire­ly Thine.

’Twas in my haste my spir­it said,
I must des­pair and die,
I am cut off be­fore Thine eyes;
But Thou hast heard my cry.

Thy good­ness how di­vine­ly free!
How won­drous is Thy grace
To those that fear Thy ma­jes­ty,
And trust Thy pro­mis­es!

O love the Lord, all ye His saints,
And sing His prais­es loud;
He’ll bend His ear to your com­plaints,
And re­com­pense the proud.