1 Once more, my soul, the rising day
Salutes thy waking eyes;
Once more, my voice thy tribute pay
To him that rules the skies.

2 Night unto night his name repeats,
The day renews the sound,
Wide as the heav'n on which he sits,
To turn the seasons round.

3 'Tis he supports my mortal frame,
My tongue shall speak his praise;
My sins would rouze his wrath to flame,
And yet his wrath delays.

5 A thousand wretched souls are fled
Since the last setting sun,
And yet thou length'nest out my thread,
And yet my moments run.

5 Dear God, let all my hours be thine,
Whilst I enjoy the light;
Then shall my soul in smiles decline,
And bring a pleasant night.