Father! to Thy kind love we owe
All that is fair and good be­low;
Bestower of the health that lies
On tear­less cheeks and cheer­ful eyes!

Giver of sun­shine and of rain!
Ripener of fruits on hill and plain!
Fountain of light, that rayed afar,
Fills the vast urns of sun and star!

Who send’st Thy storms and frosts to bind
The plagues that rise to waste man­kind;
Then breath­est, o’er the nak­ed scene,
Spring gales, and life, and ten­der green.

Yet deem we not that thus alone,
Thy mer­cy and Thy love are shown;
For we have learned, with high­er praise,
And ho­li­er names, to speak Thy ways.

In woe’s dark hour, our kind­est stay!
Sole trust when life shall pass away!
Teacher of hopes that light the gloom
Of death, and con­se­crate the tomb!

Patient, with head­strong guilt to bear;
Slow to avenge, and kind to spare;
Listening to pray­er, and re­con­ciled
Full quick­ly to Thy err­ing child!