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.

Yea, so dear doth he esteem me,

That the 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.

All which for my soul is needful

He will carefully provide

Nor of that is he unheedful

Which my body needs beside:

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.

As a father ne'er removeth

All his love for some lost child,

But the prodigal still loveth,

Yearning to be reconciled;

So my sins and many errors

Find a tender pardoning God,

Who doth not with penal terrors

Chasten them, but with the rod.

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.

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.