I will praise Thee ev­ery day,
Now Thine an­ger’s turned away!
Comfortable thoughts arise
From the bleed­ing sac­ri­fice.

Here in the fair Gos­pel field,
Wells of free sal­va­tion yield
Streams of life, a plen­te­ous store,
And my soul shall thirst no more.

Jesus is be­come at length
My sal­va­tion and my strength;
And His prais­es shall pro­long,
While I live, my plea­sant song.

Praise ye, then, His glo­ri­ous name,
Publish His ex­alt­ed fame!
Still His worth your praise ex­ceeds,
Excellent are all His deeds.

Raise again the joy­ful sound,
Let the na­tions roll it round!
Zion shout, for this is He,
God the Sav­ior dwells in Thee.