Great God, let all my tune­ful pow­ers
Awake, and sing Thy migh­ty name;
Thy hand re­volves my circ­ling hours,
Thy hand from which my be­ing came.

Seasons and moons still roll­ing round,
In beau­te­ous or­der, speak Thy praise;
And years, with smil­ing mer­cy crowned,
To Thee suc­cess­ive hon­ors raise.

To Thee I raise the an­nu­al song,
To Thee the grate­ful trib­ute give;
My God doth still my years pro­long,
And ’midst un­numbered deaths, I live.

He bids each sea­son on my soul
Its sweet­est, kind­est in­flu­ence shed;
And all the pe­ri­ods, as they roll,
Shower count­less bless­ings on my head.

My life, my health, my friends, I owe
All to Thy vast, un­bound­ed love;
Ten thou­sand pre­cious gifts below,
And hope of nob­ler joys above.

Thus will I sing, till na­ture cease,
Till sense and lang­uage are no more,
And, af­ter death, Thy bound­less grace,
Through ev­er­last­ing years, adore.