1 Lord, I will bless thee all my Days,
Thy Praise shall dwell upon my Tongue;
My Soul shall glory in thy Grace,
While Saints rejoice to hear the Song.

2 Come, magnify the Lord with me,
Come, let us all exalt his Name;
I sought th' eternal GOD, and He
Has not expos'd my Hope to shame.

3 I told him all my secret Grief,
My secret Groaning reach'd his Ears,
He gave my inward Pains Relief;
And calm'd the Tumult of my Fears.

4 To him the Poor lift up their Eyes,
Their Faces feel the heav'nly Shine;
A Beam of Mercy from the Skies
Fills them with Light and Joy divine.

5 His holy Angels pitch their Tents
Around the Men that serve the Lord:
O fear and love him, all his Saints,
Taste of his Grace, and trust his Word.

6 The wild young Lions, pinch'd with Pain
And Hunger, roar thro' all the Wood;
But none shall seek the Lord in vain,
Nor want Supplies of real Good.