12 Good is the Lord, the heav'nly King,
Who makes the earth his care;
Visits the pastures ev'ry spring,
And bids the grass appear.

13 The clouds like rivers rais'd on high,
Pour out at his command
Their wat'ry blessings from the sky,
To cheer the thirsty land.

14 The soften'd ridges of the field
Permit the corn to spring;
The valleys rich provision yield,
And the poor lab'rers sing.

15 The little hills on every side,
Rejoice at falling show'rs;
The meadows dress'd in all their pride,
Perfume the air with flow'rs.

16 The barren clods refresh'd with rain
Promise a joyful crop;
The parched grounds look green again,
And raise the reaper’s hope.

17 The various months thy goodness crowns
How bounteous thy ways!
The bleating flocks spread o’er the downs,
And shepherds shout thy praise.