My soul, repeat His praise,
Whose mercies are so great;
Whose anger is so slow to rise,
So ready to abate

My soul, repeat His praise,
Whose mercies are so great;
Whose anger is so slow to rise,
So ready to abate
Bless, O my soul, the God of grace;
His favors claim thy highest praise:
Why should the wonders he hath wrought
Be lost in silence and forgot?
Bless the Lord, O my soul;
And all that is within me, bless His holy name!
He frees the souls condemned to death,
And when his saints complain,
It shan’t be said, “That praying breath
Was ever spent in vain.”
He hears His saints, He knows their cry,
And by mysterious ways
Redeems the prisoners doomed to die,
And fills their tongues with praise.
Incline Your ear to me;
In the day that I call, answer me speedily
I’ll purge my family around,
And make the wicked flee;
So shall my house be ever found
A dwelling fit for thee.
Mercy and judgment are my song;
And since they both to thee belong,
My gracious God, my righteous King,
To thee my songs and vows I bring
I will sing of mercy and justice;
To You, O Lord, I will sing praises.
Ye nations round the earth, rejoice
Before the Lord, your sovereign king:
Serve Him with cheerful heart and voice,
With all your tongues His glory sing
For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endureth to all generations