1 I will sing my Maker's praises,
And in Him most joyful be,
For in all things I see traces
Of the good He meaneth me:
Nothing else but love could move Him
With such sweet and tender care
All who try to serve and love Him.
Evermore to raise and bear.

2 Yea, so dear doth He esteem me,
That His Son He loves so well
He hath given to redeem me
From the quenchless flames of hell;
Well of life that springeth ever!
Sea of love that hath no ground!
Fruitless were my best endeavor
Depth of love like thine to sound.

3 All which for my soul is needful
He will carefully provide,
Nor of that is He unheedful
Which my body needs besides:
When my strength cannot avail me--
At the best a broken reed--
God appears; He will not fail me
In the time of utmost need.

4 As a father ne'er removeth
All his love for some lost child,
But the prodigal still loveth,
Yearning to be reconciled;
So my many sins and errors
Find a tender pardoning God,
Who doth not with penal terrors
Chasten them, but with the rod.

5 All His blows and scourges truly
For the moment grievous prove,
And yet, when I weigh them duly,
Are but tokens of His love;
Proofs that He is watching o'er me,
And would, by the cross and rod,
From this wicked world restore me
To my Father and my God.

6 Since then neither change nor coldness
In His precious love can be,
Lo! I lift my hands with boldness,
As a child I come to Thee.
Grant me grace, O God, I pray Thee,
That I may with all my might,
Love and trust Thee and obey Thee
Till I reach the realms of light.