1 To thee let my first off'rings rise,
Whose sun creates my day;
Swift as his gladd'ning influence flies,
And spotless as his ray.

2 This day thy fav'ring hand be nigh,
So oft vouchsaf'd before!
Still may it lead, protect, supply,
And I that hand adore.

3 If bless thy Providence impart,
For which, resign'd, I pray:
Give me to feel the grateful heart,
That, without guilt, is gay.

4 Affliction should'st thou please to send,
As sin's or folly's cure:
Patient, to gain that blessed end,
May I the means endure.

5 Be this and ev'ry future day
Still wiser than the past;
That, from the whole of life's survey,
I may find peace at last.