My soul, in grateful strains record
The love of your redeeming Lord;
To all around his praises tell,
Who snatched you from the verge of hell.
Why should Jehovah condescend
To call himself the sinner's friend?
Or why in terms so sweet proclaim
His mercy in a Father's name?
Blessed Savior, in your work I see
Why God is merciful to me;
How he a rebel can receive;
How he can all my sins forgive.
'Tis faith in your atoning blood
Averts of wrath the angry flood;
'Tis faith in righteousness divine
Makes all your saving merits mine.
Descend, blessed Spirit, from above,
In all the energy of love;
To me your heavenly gifts impart,
And seal salvation to my heart.
Then, in those sweet abodes of peace,
Where grateful accents never cease,
A living monument of grace,
I'll strive to sing your loudest praise.