Sovereign of life, I own Thy hand
In every chastening stroke;
And, while I smart beneath Thy rod
Thy presence I invoke.

To Thee in my distress I cried,
And Thou hast bowed Thine ear,
Thy powerful Word my life prolonged
And brought salvation near.

Unfold, ye gates of righteousness,
That, with the pious throng,
I may record my solemn vows,
And tune my grateful song.

Praise to the Lord, whose gentle hand
Renews our laboring breath:
Praise to the Lord, who makes His saints
Triumphant e’en in death.

My God, in Thine appointed hour
Those heav’nly gates display,
Where pain, and sin, and fear, and death
For ever flee away.

There, while the nations of the blessed
With raptures bow around,
My anthems to delivering grace
In sweeter strains shall sound.