Eternal Source of every joy,
Well may Thy praise our lips employ,
While in Thy temple we appear,
Whose goodness crowns the circling year.
While, as the wheels of nature roll,
Thy hand supports the steady pole,
The sun is taught by Thee to rise,
And darkness when to veil the skies.
The flowery spring, at Thy command,
Embalms the air, and paints the land;
The summer rays with vigour shine,
To raise the corn, and cheer the vine.
Thy hand, in autumn, richly pours
Through all our coasts abundant stores;
And winters, softened by Thy care,
No more a face of horror wear.
Seasons, and months, and weeks and days,
Demand successive songs of praise;
Still be the cheerful homage paid
With morning light and evening shade.
Here in Thy house shall incense rise,
As circling Sabbaths bless our eyes;
Still will we make Thy mercies known,
Around Thy board, and at our own.
O may our more harmonious tongues
In worlds unknown pursue the songs;
And in those brighter courts adore,
Where days and years revolve no more!