289

L.M.

1
Eternal Source of every joy,
Well may Thy praise our lips employ,
While in Thy temple we appear,
Whose goodness crowns the circling year.

2
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.

3
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.

4
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.

5
Seasons, and months, and weeks and days,
Demand successive songs of praise;
Still be the cheerful homage paid
With morning light and evening shade.

6
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.

7
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!