1 Through all the various shifting scene
Of life's mistaken ill or good;
Thy hand, O God, conducts, unseen
The beautiful vicissitude.

2 Thou givest with paternal care,
Howe'er unjustly we complain,
To all their necessary share
Of joy and sorrow, health and pain.

3 Trust we to youth, or friends, or pow'r,
Fix we on this terrestrial ball?
When most secure, the coming hour,
If thou see fit, may blast them all.

4 Thy pow'rful consolations cheer;
Thy smiles suppress the deep-fetch'd sigh;
Thy hand can dry the trickling tear,
That secret wets the widow's eye.

5 All things on earth, and all in heav'n
On thy eternal will depend;
And all for greater good were giv'n,
Would man pursue th' appointed end.

6 Be this be my care:-- To all beside
Indiff'rent let my wishes be;
Passion be calm; abas'd be pride,
And fix'd my soul, great God! on thee.