1 Bless O my soul, the living God
Call home thy thoughts that rove abroad
Let all the pow'rs within me join,
In work and worship so divine.

2 Bless, O my soul, the God of grace;
His favours claim thy highest praise
Why should the wonders he hath wrought
Be lost in silence, and forgot?

3 'Tis he, my soul, that sent his Son
To die for crimes which thou hast done
He owns the ransom, and forgives,
The hourly follies of our lives.

4 Our youth decay'd his pow'r repairs;
His mercy crowns our growing years
He satisfies our mouths with good,
And fills our hopes with heav'nly food.

5 Let the whole earth his pow'r confess,
Let the whole earth adore his grace,
The Gentile with the Jew shall join
In work and worship so divine.