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Thine, Lord, is wisdom, Thine alone, Justice and truth before thee stand; Yet nearer to Thy sacred throne, Mercy withholds Thy lifted hand.

Each evening shows Thy tender love Each rising morn Thy plenteous grace; Thy waken'd wrath doth slowly move Thy willing mercy flies apace.

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To Thy benigh indulgent care, Father, this light, this breath we owe, And all we have and all we are, From thee, great source of being flow.

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Parent of good, Thy bounteous hand, Incessant blessing down distils, And all in air, or sea, or land, With plenteous food and gladness fills.

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All things in thee, live move and are, Thy pow'r indused doth all sustain; Ev'n those Thy daily favours share Who thankless spun Thy easy reign.

Thy sun thou bidd'st his genial ray Alike on all impartial pour; To all, who hate to bless Thy sway, Thou budd'st descend the fruitful shower.

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Yet while at length who scorned Thy might, Shall feel thee a consuming fire, How sweet the joys, the crown how bright, Of those who to Thy love aspire!