My maker and my King,
To Thee my all I owe,
Thy sov’reign bounty is the spring,
Whence all my blessings flow.

The creature of Thy hand,
On Thee alone I live;
My God, Thy benefits demand,
More praise than life can give.

Shall I withhold Thy due,
And shall my passions rove;
Lord, form this wretched heart anew,
And fill it with Thy love.

Recordings none