O Come, My Soul, Bless Thou the Lord Thy Maker

O come

my soul

bless thou the Lord thy mak­er

And all with­in me bless His holy name;

Bless thou the Lord

for­get not all His mer­cies

His par­don­ing grace and sav­ing love pro­claim.

Bless Him for­ev­er

won­drous in might

Bless Him

His serv­ants that in His will de­light.

Good is the Lord and full of kind com­pass­ion

Most slow to an­ger

plen­te­ous in love;

Rich is His grace to all that hum­bly seek Him

Boundless and end­less as the heav’ns above.

His love is like a fa­ther’s to his child­ren

Tender and kind to all who fear His name;

For well He knows our weak­ness and our frail­ty

He knows that we are dust

He knows our frame.

We fade and die like flow’rs that grow in beau­ty

Like ten­der grass that soon will dis­ap­pear;

But ev­er­more the love of God is change­less

Still shown to those who look to Him in fear.

High in the heav’ns His throne is fixed for­ev­er

His king­dom rules o’er all from pole to pole;

Bless ye the Lord through all His wide do­min­ion

Bless His most ho­ly name

O thou my soul.