Great God, to Thee My Voice I Raise

Great God

to Thee my voice I raise

To Thee my young­est hours be­long;

I would be­gin my life with praise;

Till grow­ing years im­prove the song.

’Tis to Thy sov­er­eign grace I owe

That I was born on Christ­ian ground

Where streams of heav’n­ly mer­cy flow

And words of sweet sal­va­tion sound.

I would not change my na­tive land

For rich Pe­ru

with all her gold;

A nob­ler prize lies in my hand

Than east or west­ern Ind­ies hold.

How do I pi­ty those that dwell

Where ig­no­rance or dark­ness reigns;

They know no Heav’n

they fear no hell

Those end­less joys

those end­less pains.

Thy glo­ri­ous pro­mis­es

O Lord

Kindle my hopes and my de­sire;

While all the preach­ers of Thy word

Warn me to ’scape eter­nal fire.

Thy praise shall still em­ploy my breath

Since Thou hast marked my way to Heav’n;

Nor will I run the road to death

And waste the bless­ings Thou hast giv’n.