1 For Thee, O God, our constant Praise
In Sion waits, thy chosen Seat;
Our promis'd Altars there we'll raise,
And all our zealous Vows complete.
2 O Thou, who to my humble Pray'r
Didst always bend thy list'ning Ear,
To Thee shall all Mankind repair,
And at thy gracious Throne appear.
3 Our Sins (tho' numberless) in vain
To stop thy flowing Mercy try;
Whilst Thou o'erlook'st the guilty Stain,
And washest out the crimson dye.
4 Blest is the Man, who, near Thee plac'd,
Within thy sacred Dwelling lives!
Whilst we, at humble Distance, taste
The vast Delights thy Temple gives.
5 By wond'rous Acts, O God most Just,
Have we thy gracious Answer found:
In Thee remotest Nations trust,
And those whom stormy Waves surround.
6,7 God, by His Strength, sets fast the Hills,
And does His matchless Pow'r engage;
With which the Sea's loud Waves He stills,
And angry Crouds tumultuous Rage.
Part II
8 Thou Lord, dost barb'rous Lands dismay,
When they thy dreadful Tokens view:
With Joy they see the Night and Day
Each others Track, by Turns, pursue.
9 From out thy unexhausted Store
Thy Rain relieves the thirsty Ground;
Makes Lands, that barren were before,
With Corn and useful Fruits abound.
10 On rising Ridges down it pours,
And ev'ry furrow'd Valley fills:
Thou mak'st them soft with gentle show'rs,
In which a blest Increase distils.
11 Thy Goodness does the circling year
With fresh Returns of Plenty crown;
And where thy glorious Paths appear,
Thy fruitful Clouds drop Fatness down.
12 They drop on barren Forests, chang'd
By them to Pastures fresh and green:
The Hills about in Order rang'd,
In beauteous Robes of Joy are seen.
13 Large Flocks with fleecy Wool adorn
The chearful Downs; the Vallies bring
A plenteous Crop of full-ear'd Corn,
And seem, for Joy, to shout and sing.
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