Psalm 103 (Version 1, Part 1)

Bless, O my soul, the living God,

Call home thy thoughts that rove abroad;

Let all the powers within me join

In work and worship so divine.

Bless, O my soul, the God of grace;

His favours claim thy highest praise;

Why should the wonders he hath wrought

Be lost in silence and forgot?

'Tis he, my soul, that sent his Son

To die for crimes which thou hast done;

He owns the ransom; and forgives

The hourly follies of our lives.

The vices of the mind he heals,

And cures the pains that nature feels;

Redeems the soul from hell, and saves

Our wasting life from threat'ning graves.

Our youth decay'd his power repairs;

His mercy crowns our growing years;

He satisfies our mouth with good,

And fills our hopes with heavenly food.

He sees th' oppressor and th' opprest,

And often gives the sufferers rest;

But will his justice more display

In the last great rewarding day.

[His power he shew'd by Moses' hands,

And gave to Israel his commands;

But sent his truth and mercy down

To all the nations by his Son.

Let the whole earth his power confess,

Let the whole earth adore his grace;

The Gentile with the Jew shall join

In work and worship so divine.]