Praise to our God, whose boun­te­ous hand
Prepared of old our glo­ri­ous land;
A gar­den fenced with sil­ver sea;
A people pros­per­ous, strong, and free.

Praise to our God; through all our past
His migh­ty arm hath held us fast;
Till wars and per­ils, toils and tears,
Have brought the rich and peace­ful years.

Praise to our God; the vine He set
Within our coasts is fruit­ful yet;
On many a shore her off­shoots grow;
’Neath ma­ny a sun her clus­ters glow.

Praise to our God; His pow­er alone
Can keep un­moved our an­cient throne,
Sustained by coun­sels wise and just,
And guard­ed by a peo­ple’s trust.

Praise to our God, who still for­bears,
Who still this sin­ful nation spares,
Who calls us still to seek His face,
And length­ens out our day of grace.

Praise to our God; through chast­en­ings stern
Our ev­il dross should tho­rough­ly burn,
His rod and staff, from age to age,
Shall rule and guide His her­it­age!