1 Thou power supreme, by whose command we live!
The grateful tribute of our praise receive:
To thy indulgence we our being owe,
And all the joys which from that being flow.

2 Thy skill our elemental clay refined,
And all its various parts in order join'd;
With perfect symmetry compos'd the whole.
And stamp'd thy sacred image on the soul:

3 A soul, susceptible of endless joy,
Whose frame nor force, nor time, shall e'er destroy;
Which shall survive, though nature claim our breath,
And bid defiance to the darts of death.

4 How shall our hearts their grateful sense reveal,
When all the energy of words must fail?
O may its influence in our lives appear,
And ev'ry action prove our thanks sincere.