When all Thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view,
I'm lost in wonder, love and praise.
To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,
Ere yet my feeble tho'ts had learned
To form themselves in prayer.
Unnumbered comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestowed,
Before my infant heart could know
From whom those comforts flowed.
Through hidden dangers, toils and death,
It gently cleared my way;
And thru the pleasing snares of vice,
More to be feared than they.
Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ;
Nor is the least a cheerful heart
That tastes those gifts with joy.
Through all eternity to Thee
A joyful song I'll raise;
For, oh, eternity's too short
To utter all Thy praise!