1 Eternal Source of every joy,
Well may thy praise our lips employ
While in thy temple we appear,
To hail thee Sovereign of the year!
Wide as the wheels of nature roll,
Thy hand supports and guides the whole:
The sun is taught by thee to rise,
And darkness when to vail the skies

2 The flowery spring, at thy command
Perfumes the air, adorns the land;
The summer rays with vigor shine,
To raise the corn, to cheer the vine:
Thy hand, in autumn, richly pours
Through all our coasts redundant stores;
And winters, softened by thy care,
No more the face of horror wear.

3 Seasons and months, and weeks and days,
Demand successive songs of praise;
And be the grateful homage paid,
With morning light and evening shade.
Here in thy house let incense rise,
And circling Sabbaths bless our eyes,
Till to those lofty heights we sour,
Where days and years revolve no more.