Sweet is the me­mo­ry of Thy grace,
My God, my heav’n­ly king;
Let age to age Thy right­eous­ness
In sounds of glo­ry sing.

God reigns on high, but not con­fines
His good­ness to the skies;
Through the whole earth His boun­ty shines,
And ev­ery want sup­plies.

With long­ing eyes Thy crea­tures wait
On Thee for dai­ly food;
Thy li­ber­al hand pro­vides their meat,
And fills their mouths with good.

How kind are Thy com­pass­ions, Lord!
How slow Thine an­ger moves!
But soon He sends His par­don­ing word
To cheer the souls He loves.

Creatures with all their end­less race
Thy power and praise pro­claim;
But saints that taste Thy rich­er grace
Delight to bless Thy name.