Orson F. Whitney - Savior redeemer of my soul

^CSavior, ^FRedeemer ^Cof my ^Gsoul, ^CWhose mighty ^Fhand hath ^Dmmade me w^Ghole, ^AmWhose wondrous ^Fpow'r hath ^Amraised me ^Fup ^CAnd filled with ^Fsweet my ^Gbitter ^Ccup! ^FWhat tongue my ^Amgrati^Ftude can ^Amtell, ^FO gracious ^CGod of^F I^G7sra^Cel.

^CNever can ^FI re^Cpay thee, ^GLord, ^CBut I can ^Flove thee. ^DmThy pure ^Gword, ^AmHath it not ^Fbeen my ^Amone de^Flight, ^CMy joy by ^Fday, my ^Gdream by ^Cnight? ^FThen let my ^Amlips pro^Fclaim it ^Amstill, ^FAnd all my ^Clife ref^Fle^G7ct thy ^Cwill.

^CO'errule mine ^Facts to ^Cserve thine ^Gends. ^CChange frowning ^Ffoes to ^Dmsmiling ^Gfriends. ^AmChasten my ^Fsoul till ^AmI shall ^Fbe ^CIn perfect ^Fharmo^Gny with ^Cthee. ^FMake me more ^Cworthy ^Fof thy ^Clove, ^GAnd fit me ^Cfor the ^Fli^Gfe abo^Cve.