On Thee each morn­ing, O my God,
My wak­ing thoughts at­tend;
In whom are found­ed all my hopes,
In whom my wish­es end.

My soul, in plead­ing won­der lost,
Thy bound­less love sur­veys,
And fired with grate­ful zeal pre­pares
Her sac­ri­fice of praise.

When ev­en­ing slum­bers press my eyes,
With Thy pro­tect­ion blest,
In peace and safe­ty I com­mit
My wea­ry limbs to rest.

My spir­it in Thy hands se­cure
Fears no ap­proach­ing ill;
For whether wak­ing or asleep
Thou, Lord, art with me still.

Then will I dai­ly to the world
Thy won­drous acts pro­claim;
Whilst all with me shall prais­es sing
And bless Thy sac­red name.

At morn, at noon, at night I’ll still
The grow­ing work pur­sue;
And Thee alone wilt praise, to whom
Eternal praise is due.