1 My God, what blessings round me shone,
Where'er I turned my eye!
How many pass'd, almost unknown,
Or unregarded, by!

2 Each rolling year new favors brought
From thy exhaustless store.
But, ah! in vain my laboring thought
Would count thy mercies o'er:

3 While sweet reflection thro' my days,
Thy bounteous hand would trace;
Still dearer blessings claim thy praise,
The blessings of thy race.

4 Yes, I adore thee, gracious Lord!
For favors more divine;
That I have known thy sacred word,
Where all thy glories shine.

5 My highest praise, alas, how !
How cold my warmest love!
My father! teach me to adore
As angles do above.