Seasons. Gen 8. 22

A. Flowerdew   C.M.

Fountain of mercy, God of love,
How rich thy bounties are;
The rolling seasons, as they move,
Proclaim thy constant care.

When in the bosom of the earth
The sower hid the grain;
Thy goodness marked its secret birth,
And sent the early rain.

The spring’s sweet influence, Lord, was thine;
The plants in beauty grew;
Thou gav’st the summer sun to shine,
The mild refreshing dew.

These various mercies from above
Matured the swelling grain;
A kindly harvest crowns thy love,
And plenty fills the plain.

We own and bless thy gracious sway;
Thy hand all nature hails;
Seed-time, nor harvest, night nor day,
Summer nor winter fails.

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