With all my pow­ers of heart and tongue,
I’ll praise my mak­er in my song;
Angels shall hear the notes I raise,
Approve the song, and join the praise.

Angels that make Thy church their care
Shall wit­ness my de­vo­tions there,
While ho­ly zeal di­rects my eyes
To Thy fair tem­ple in the skies.

I’ll sing Thy truth and mer­cy, Lord,
I’ll sing the won­ders of Thy Word;
Not all Thy works and names be­low
So much Thy pow­er and mer­cy show.

To God I cried when trou­bles rose;
He heard me, and sub­dued my foes;
He did my ris­ing fears con­trol,
And strength dif­fused through all my soul.

The God of Heav’n main­tains His state,
Frowns on the proud, and scorns the great;
But from His throne des­cends to see
The sons of hum­ble po­ver­ty.

Amidst a thou­sand snares I stand,
Upheld and guard­ed by Thy hand,
Thy words my faint­ing soul revive,
And keep my dy­ing faith alive.

Grace will com­plete what grace be­gins,
To save from sor­rows or from sins;
The work that wis­dom un­der­takes
Eternal mer­cy ne’er for­sakes.