Come, O my soul, my evíry powír awaking,
Look unto Him Whose goodness crowns thy days;
While into song angelic choirs are breaking,
O let thy voice its thankful tribute bring.
Tell how alone the path of death He trod;
Tell how He lives, thine Advocate with God;
Lift up thy voice, while Heavínís triumphant throng,
Swell at His feet the everlasting song.
Think, O my soul, now patiently He sought thee,
Far, far away upon the mountain steep;
Then in His arms how tenderly He brought thee,
Home to His fold, a weary, wandíring sheep.
Sing, O my soul, and let thy pure devotion
Rise to His throne, thy Savior, Friend, and Guide;
Sing of His love that, like a mighty ocean,
Flows unto thee, and all the world beside.
Soon, O my soul, thine earthly house forsaking,
Soon shalt thou rise the better world to see;
Then will thy harp, a nobler strain awaking,
Praise Him Who died to purchase life for thee.