Awake, my soul, to joyful lays,
And sing thy great Redeemer’s praise;
He justly claims a song from me -
His lovingkindness, O how free!
Lovingkindness, lovingkindness,
His lovingkindness, O how free!

He saw me ruined in the fall,
Yet loved me notwithstanding all;
He saved me from my lost estate -
His lovingkindness, O how great!
Lovingkindness, lovingkindness,
His lovingkindness, O how great!

Though numerous hosts of mighty foes,
Though earth and hell my way oppose,
He safely leads my soul along -
His lovingkindness, O how strong!
Lovingkindness, lovingkindness,
His lovingkindness, O how strong!

When trouble, like a gloomy cloud,
Has gathered thick and thundered loud,
He near my soul has always stood -
His lovingkindness, O how good!
Lovingkindness, lovingkindness,
His lovingkindness, O how good!

Often I feel my sinful heart
Prone from my Jesus to depart;
But though I have him oft forgot,
His lovingkindness changes not.
Lovingkindness, lovingkindness,
His lovingkindness changes not.

Soon I shall pass the gloomy vale,
Soon all my mortal powers must fail;
O! may my last expiring breath
His lovingkindness sing in death.
Lovingkindness, lovingkindness,
His lovingkindness sing in death.

Then let me mount and soar away
To the bright world of endless day;
And sing with raptures and surprise,
His lovingkindness in the skies.
Lovingkindness, lovingkindness,
His lovingkindness in the skies.

Come, ye disconsolate, where’er ye languish,
Come to the mercy seat, fervently kneel.
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.

Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,
Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure!
Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,
“Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure.”

Here see the Bread of Life, see waters flowing
Forth from the throne of God, pure from above.
Come to the feast of love; come, ever knowing
Earth has no sorrow but heaven can remove.

Come, ye disconsolate, where’er ye languish,
Come, at the shrine of God fervently kneel;
Here bring your wounded hearts; here tell your anguish;
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.

Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,
Hope when all others die, fadeless and pure;
Here speaks the Comforter, in God’s name saying,
“Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure.”

Come, ask the infidel what boon he brings us,
What charm for aching hearts he can reveal,
Sweet is that heavenly promise Hope sings us—
“Earth has no sorrow that God cannot heal.”

Father, whose everlasting love
Thy only Son for sinners gave,
Whose grace to all did freely move,
And sent Him down the world to save;

Help us Thy mercy to extol,
Immense, unfathomed, unconfined;
To praise the Lamb who died for all,
The general Savior of mankind.

Thy undistinguishing regard
Was cast on Adam’s fallen race;
For all Thou hast in Christ prepared
Sufficient, sovereign, saving grace.

The world He suffered to redeem;
For all He hath the atonement made;
For those that will not come to Him
The ransom of His life was paid.

Why then, Thou universal Love,
Should any of Thy grace despair?
To all, to all, Thy bowels move,
But straitened in our own we are.

Arise, O God, maintain Thy cause!
The fullness of the Gentiles call;
Lift up the standard of Thy cross,
And all shall own Thou diedst for all.

Hark, my soul, it is the Lord!
’Tis thy Savior, hear His Word;
Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee,
“Say, poor, sinner, lovest thou Me?”

“I delivered thee when bound,
And, when bleeding, healed thy wound;
Sought thee wandering, set thee right,
Turned thy darkness into light.

“Can a woman’s tender care
Cease toward the child she bare?
Yes, she may forgetful be,
Yet will I remember thee.

“Mine is an unchanging love,
Higher than the heights above,
Deeper than the depths beneath,
Free and faithful, strong as death.

“Thou shalt see My glory soon,
When the work of grace is done;
Partner of My throne shalt be:
Say, poor sinner, lovest thou Me?”

Lord, it is my chief complaint
That my love is weak and faint;
Yet I love Thee, and adore:
O for grace to love Thee more!

Jesu, Thy mercies are untold
Through each returning day;
Thy love exceeds a thousandfold
Whatever we can say.

That love which in Thy passion drained
For us Thy precious blood;
That love whereby the saints have gained
The vision of their God.

’Tis Thou hast loved us from the womb,
Pure Source of all our bliss,
Our only hope of life to come,
Our happiness in this.

Lord, grant us, while on earth we stay,
Thy love to feel and know;
And, when from hence we pass away,
To us Thy glory show.

Thy ceaseless, unexhausted love,
Unmerited and free,
Delights our evil to remove,
And help our misery.

Thou waitest to be gracious still;
Thou dost with sinners bear,
That, saved, we may Thy goodness feel,
And all Thy grace declare.

Thy goodness and Thy truth to me
To every soul, abound,
A vast, unfathomable sea,
Where all our thoughts are drowned.

Its streams the whole creation reach,
So plenteous is the store,
Enough for all, enough for each,
Enough for evermore.

Faithful, O Lord, Thy mercies are!
A rock that cannot move;
A thousand promises declare
Thy constancy of love.

Throughout the universe it reigns,
Unalterably sure;
And while the truth of God remains,
The goodness must endure.

Arise! arise, with joy survey
The glory of the latter day;
Already is the dawn begun,
Which marks at hand a rising sun,
Which marks at hand a rising sun.

“Behold the way!” ye heralds, cry;
Spare not, but lift your voices high;
Convey the sound from pole to pole,
“Glad tidings” to the captive soul,
“Glad tidings” to the captive soul.

“Behold the way!” to Zion’s hill:
Where Israel’s God delights to dwell!
He fixes there His lofty throne,
And calls the sacred place His own,
And calls the sacred place His own.

The north gives up—the south no more
Keeps back her consecrated store;
From east to west the message runs,
And either India yields her sons,
And either India yields her sons.

Come, we that love the Lord,
And let our joys be known;
Join in a song with sweet accord,
Join in a song with sweet accord
And thus surround the throne,
And thus surround the throne.

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We’re marching to Zion,
Beautiful, beautiful Zion;
We’re marching upward to Zion,
The beautiful city of God.

The sorrows of the mind
Be banished from the place;
Religion never was designed
Religion never was designed,
To make our pleasures less,
To make our pleasures less.

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Let those refuse to sing,
Who never knew our God;
But favorites of the heavenly King,
But favorites of the heavenly King
May speak their joys abroad,
May speak their joys abroad.

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The God that rules on high,
And thunders when He please,
Who rides upon the stormy sky,
Who rides upon the stormy sky,
And manages the seas,
And manages the seas.

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This awful God is ours,
Our Father and our Love;
He will send down his heav’nly powers,
He will send down his heav’nly powers,
To carry us above,
To carry us above.

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There we shall see His face,
And never, never sin!
There, from the rivers of His grace,
There, from the rivers of His grace,
Drink endless pleasures in,
Drink endless pleasures in.

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Yea, and before we rise,
To that immortal state,
The thoughts of such amazing bliss,
The thoughts of such amazing bliss,
Should constant joys create,
Should constant joys create.

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The men of grace have found,
Glory begun below.
Celestial fruits on earthly ground
Celestial fruits on earthly ground
From faith and hope may grow,
From faith and hope may grow.

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The hill of Zion yields
A thousand sacred sweets
Before we reach the heav’nly fields,
Before we reach the heav’nly fields,
Or walk the golden streets,
Or walk the golden streets.

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Then let our songs abound,
And every tear be dry;
We’re marching through Immanuel’s ground,
We’re marching through Immanuel’s ground,
To fairer worlds on high,
To fairer worlds on high.

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Come, all ye sons of God, who have received the priesthood,
Go spread the Gospel wide, and gather in His people,
The latter day work has begun, to gather scattered Israel in
And bring them back to Zion to praise the Lamb.

Come, all ye scattered sheep, and listen to your Shepherd,
While you the blessing reap, which long have been predicted;
By prophets long it’s been foretold He’ll gather you into His fold
And bring you home to Zion to praise the Lamb.

Repent and be baptized, and have your sins remitted,
And get the Spirit’s zeal; O then you’ll be united;
Go cast upon Him all your cares; He will regard your humble prayer
And bring you home to Zion to praise the Lamb.

And when your grief is o’er and ended your affliction,
Your spirits then will soar to await the resurrection;
And then His presence you’ll enjoy, in heavenly bliss your time employ,
A thousand years in Zion to praise the Lamb.

There’s a sacred and hallowed retreat,
Where my soul finds a fellowship sweet,
Where the Lord of my life I may meet,
In the garden of my heart.

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In the cool of the day He walks with me,
In the rose bordered way He talks with me;
In love’s holy union,
And sacred communion,
In the garden of my heart.

There is naught can disturb or molest,
There my spirit finds comfort and rest,
And my soul is no longer distressed
In the garden of my heart.

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Shut away from earth’s strife and its din,
And protected from soul staining sin,
For my Savior is dwelling within,
In the garden of my heart.

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There the dove of sweet peace always sings,
And my faith ever trustingly clings;
And the chime of sweet happiness rings
In the garden of my heart.

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Jesus, Lord and precious Savior,
All my comfort and my joy!
Graciously extend Thy favor,
Let Thy Word my soul employ.

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Jesus, come abide with me,
Let me ever be with Thee.

All I do, O let me ever,
Jesus, in Thy Name begin;
Give me success to my endeavor,
Final victory therein.

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Let my words and thoughts, O Savior,
To Thy praise and glory tend;
Help me, Lord, that I may gather
Treasures that shall never end.

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When my days on earth are over,
Let me enter into rest.
Bear me home, O blessèd Savior,
When to Thee it seemeth best.

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The hymn for conquering martyrs raise,
The victor innocents we praise,
Whom in their woe earth cast away,
But Heav’n with joy received today;
Whose angels see the Father’s face
World without end, and hymn His grace;
And while they chant unceasing lays,
The hymn for conquering martyrs raise.

A voice from Ramah was there sent,
A voice of weeping and lament,
When Rachel mourned the children’s care
Whom for the tyrant’s sword she bare.
Triumphal is their glory now,
Whom earthly torments could not bow,
What time, both far and near that went,
A voice from Ramah there was sent.

Fear not, O little flock and blest,
The lion that your life opprest!
To heavenly pastures ever new
The heavenly Shepherd leadeth you;
Who, dwelling now on Zion’s hill,
The Lamb’s dear footsteps follow still;
By tyrant there no more distrest,
Fear not, O little flock and blest.

And every tear is wiped away
By your dear Father’s hands for ay;
Death hath no power to hurt you more,
Whose own is life’s eternal store.
Who sow their seed, and sowing weep,
In everlasting joy shall reap,
What time they shine in heavenly day,
And every tear is wiped away.

O city blest o’er all the earth,
Who gloriest in the Savior’s birth,
Who are His earliest martyrs dear,
By kindred and by triumph here;
None from henceforth may call thee small,
Of rival towns thou passest all:
In whom our Monarch had His birth,
O city blest o’er all the earth!

Return, O wanderer, return,
And seek an injured Father’s face;
Those warm desires that in thee burn
Were kindled by reclaiming grace.

Return, O wanderer, return,
And seek a Father’s melting heart,
Whose pitying eyes thy grief discern,
Whose hand can heal thine inward smart.

Return, O wanderer, return,
He heard thy deep repentant sigh,
He saw thy softened spirit mourn
When no intruding ear was nigh.

Return, O wanderer, return,
Thy Savior bids thy spirit live;
Go to His bleeding feet, and learn
How freely Jesus can forgive.

Return, O wanderer, return,
And wipe away the falling tear;
’Tis God who says, “No longer mourn,”
’Tis mercy’s voice invites thee near.

When I was but a little child how well I recollect
How I would grieve my mother with my folly and neglect;
And now that she has gone to Heav’n I miss her tender care:
O Savior, tell my mother, I’ll be there!

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Tell mother I’ll be there, in answer to her prayer;
This message, blessèd Savior, to her bear!
Tell mother I’ll be there, Heav’n’s joys with her to share;
Yes, tell my darling mother I’ll be there.

Though I was often wayward, she was always kind and good;
So patient, gentle, loving when I acted rough and rude;
My childhood griefs and trials she would gladly with me share:
O Savior, tell my mother, I’ll be there!

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When I became a prodigal, and left the old rooftree,
She almost broke her loving heart in mourning after me;
And day and night she prayed to God to keep me in His care:
O Savior, tell my mother, I’ll be there!

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One day a message came to me, it bade me quickly come
If I would see my mother ere the Savior took her home;
I promised her, before she died, for Heaven to prepare:
O Savior, tell my mother, I’ll be there!

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