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 vi­gor shine,
To raise the corn and cheer the vine.

Thy hand in au­tumn rich­ly pours
Through all our coasts re­dun­dant 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 op­en­ing light and ev­en­ing shade.

Here in Thy house shall in­cense rise,
And circ­ling Sab­baths bless our eyes;
Still we will make Thy mer­cies known
Around Thy board, and round 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!