Lord, with glowing heart I’d praise Thee for the bliss Your love bestows,
For the pard’ning grace that saves me, and the peace that from it flows.
Help, O God, my weak endeavor; this dull soul to rapture raise:
You must light the flame, or never can my love be warmed to praise.
Praise, my soul, the God that sought you, wretched wanderer far astray;
Found you lost, and kindly brought you from the paths of death away.
Praise, with love’s devoutest feeling, Him who saw your guilt-born fear,
And, the light of hope revealing, bade the blood-stained cross appear.
Praise the Savior God that drew you to that cross, new life to give;
Held a blood-sealed pardon to you, bade thee look to Him and live.
Praise the grace whose threats alarmed you, roused you from your fatal ease;
Praise the grace whose promise warmed you, praise the grace that whisper’d peace.
Lord, this bosom’s ardent feeling vainly would my lips express:
Low before Your footstool kneeling, deign Your suppliant’s prayer to bless.
Let Your love, my soul’s chief treasure, love’s pure flame within me raise;
And, since words can never measure, let my life show forth Your praise.