My Soul, Now Praise Thy Maker

My soul

now praise thy mak­er!

Let all with­in me bless His name

Who mak­eth thee par­tak­er

Of mer­cies more than thou dar’st claim.

Forget Him not whose meek­ness

Still bears with all thy sin

Who heal­eth all thy weak­ness

Renews thy life with­in.

Whose grace and care are end­less

And saved thee thro’ the past;

Who leaves no suf­fer­er friend­less

But rights the wronged at last.

He shows to man His trea­sure

Of judg­ment

truth

and right­eous­ness

His love be­yond all mea­sure

His yearn­ing pi­ty o’er dis­tress

Nor treats us as we mer­it

But lays His an­ger by.

The hum­ble

con­trite spirit

Finds His com­pass­ion nigh;

And high as Heav’n above us

As break from close of day

So far

since He doth love us

He puts our sins away.

For as a ten­der fa­ther

Hath pi­ty on his child­ren here

He in His arms will ga­ther

All who are His in child­like fear.

He knows how frail our pow­ers

Who but from dust are made;

We flour­ish like the flow­ers

And ev­en so we fade;

The wind but o’er them pass­es

And all their bloom is o’er—

We wi­ther like the grass­es

Our place knows us no more.

God’s grace alone en­dur­eth

And child­ren’s child­ren yet shall prove

How He with strength as­sur­eth

The hearts of all that seek His love.

In Heav’n is fixed His dwell­ing

His rule is ov­er all;

Angels

in might ex­cel­ling

Bright hosts

be­fore Him fall.

Praise Him who ev­er reign­eth

All ye who hear His Word

Nor our poor hymns dis­dain­eth—

My soul

O praise the Lord!