[i]Puritan Hymn
[b]When All Your Mercies, O My God
When all your mer-cies, O my God,
My ris-ing soul sur-veys,
Trans-port-ed with the view, I'm lost
In won-der, love and praise.
Un-num-bered com-forts to my soul
Your ten-der care be-stowed,
Be-fore my in-fant heart con-ceived
From whom those com-forts flowed.
When worn with sick-ness, oft have you
With health re-newed my face;
And when in sins and sor-rows sunk,
Re-vived my soul with grace.
Ten thou-sand pre-cious gifts
My dai-ly thanks em-ploy;
Nor is the least a cheer-ful heart
That tastes those gifts with joy.
Through every per-iod of my life
Your good-ness I'll pur-sue;
And af-ter death, in dist-ant world,
The glo-rious theme re-new.
Through all e-ter-ni-ty to you
A joy-ful song I'll raise;
For oh, e-ter-ni-ty's too short
To ut-ter all your praise.