1 God bids, and lo! a burning waste,
Where rolled the floods before,
And, touched by the descending blast,
The springs are seen no more.
2 Sad witness of some dire offense,
Behold the fertile soil
No more its wonted gifts dispense,
But mock the tiller’s toil.
3 He bids, and o’er the desert wide
The liquid lake is spread;
New springs the thirsty earth divide,
And murmuring lift the head.
4 There myriads, late with hunger wan,
By Him assembled, meet;
There pleased the future city plan,
And fix their sure retreat.
5 And now they sow the foodful grain,
The tender vine they rear;
Now waves the harvest o’er the plain,
And plenty crowns the year.
6 Blest in His care, the sires with joy
A numerous race behold;
Nor dares disease their herds annoy,
Or waste the peopled fold.
7 His works attentive while it sees,
The Heav’n-instructed mind
Shall own, how equal His decrees,
His providence, how kind!
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #8179