1 Eternal source of every joy!
Well may thy praise our lips employ,
While in thy temple we appear
To hail thee, sovereign of the year.

2 Wide as the wheels of nature roll,
Thy hand supports and guides the whole;
The sun is taught by thee to rise,
And darkness when to veil the skies.

3 The flowery spring, at thy command,
Perfumes the air and paints the land;
The summer rays with vigor shine,
To raise the corn, and cheer the vine.

4 Thy hand, in autumn, richly pours
Thro' all our coasts redundant stores;
And winters, soften'd by thy care,
No more their face of horror wear.

5 Seasons and months, and weeks, and days
Demand successive songs of praise;
And be the grateful homage paid,
With morning light, and evening shade.

6 Here in thy house let incense rise,
And circling sabbaths bless our eyes,
'Till to those lofty heights we soar,
Where days and years revolve no more.