1 God of my life, through all its days,
My grateful pow'rs shall sound thy praise;
My song shall wake with op'ning light,
And cheer the dark and silent night.
2 When anxious cares would break my rest,
And griefs would tear my throbbing breast,
Thy tuneful praises, rais'd on high,
Shall check the murmur and the sigh.
3 When death o’er nature shall prevail,
And all its pow'rs of language fail;
Joy through my swimming eyes shall break,
And mean the thanks I cannot speak.
4 But O when that last conflict’s o’er,
And I am chain'd to earth no more,
With what glad accents shall I rise
To join the music of the skies!
5 Soon shall I learn th' exalted strains
Which echo through the heav'nly plains;
And emulate, with joy unknown,
The glowing seraphs round the throne.
|First Line:||God of my life, through all its days|
|Topic:||Duties of Piety|