1 God of the uni­verse, whose hand
Hath filled with suns the fields of space,
Round which, ob­ey­ing Thy com­mand,
The peo­pled worlds ful­fill their race.

2 How vast the re­gion where Thy hand
Existence, form, and or­der gives;
Pleased the wide cup with joy to fill
For all that grows, and feels and lives.

3 Lord, while we thank Thee, let us learn
Beneficence to all be­low;
Those praise Thee best, whose bo­soms burn
To spread the gifts from Thee that flow.

4 So at the aw­ful hour of change,
Our frames the bonds of death shall tear,
Through that whole star­ry vast to range,
Thy boun­ty to ad­mire and share.