Look back, my soul, with grateful love
On what thy God has done;
Praise Him for His unnumbered gifts,
And praise Him for His Son.

How oft has His indulgent hand
My flowing eyelids dried,
And rescued from impending death,
When I in danger cried!

When on the bed of pain I lay
With sickness sore oppressed,
How oft has He assuaged my grief,
And lulled my eyes to rest!

Back from destruction’s yawning pit
At His command I came;
He fed th’expiring lamp anew,
And raised its feeble flame.

My broken spirit He has cheered,
When torn with inward grief;
And, when temptations pressed me sore,
Has brought me swift relief.

My soul from ev­er­last­ing death
Is by His mercy brought,
To tell in Zion’s sacred gates
The wonders He has wrought.

Still will I walk before His face,
While He this life prolongs;
Till grace shall all its work complete,
And teach me heav’nly songs.