3 Her song of gratitude is sung By Spring's awakening hours; Her Summer offers at Thy shrine Its earliest, loveliest flowers; Her Autumn brings its golden fruits, In glorious luxury given; While Winter's silver heights reflect Thy brightness back to heaven.
1 God of the changing year, whose arm of power In safety leads through danger's darkest hour,-- Here in Thy temple bow Thy children down, To bless Thy mercy, and Thy might to own.
2 Thine are the beams that cheer us on our way, And pour around the gladdening light of day; Thine is the night, and the fair orbs that shine To cheer its hours of darkness,--all are Thine.
3 If round our path the thorns of sorrow grew, And mortal friends were faithless, Thou wast true Did sickness shake the frame, or anguish tear The wounded spirit, Thou wast present there.
4 O, lend Thine ear, and lift our voice to Thee; Where'er we dwell, still let Thy mercy be; From year to year, still nearer to Thy shrine Draw our frail hearts, and make them wholly Thine!
1 O God! to Thee our hearts would pay Their gratitude sincere, Whose love hath kept us, night and day, Throughout another year.
2 Of every breath, and every power, Thou wast the gracious source; From Thee came every happy hour Which smiled along its course.
3 And if sometimes across our path A cloud its shadows threw, Thou didst not waft it there in wrath, But loving-kindness true.
4 For joy and grief alike we pay Our thanks to Thee above; And only pray to grow each day More worthy of Thy love.
1 Like shadows gliding o'er the plain, Or clouds that roll successive on, Man's busy generations pass; And while we gaze, their forms are gone.
2 O Father, in whose mighty hand The boundless years and ages lie, Teach us Thy boon of life to prize, And use the moments as they fly;--
3 To crowd the narrow span of life With wise designs and virtuous deeds; And so shall death but lead us on To nobler service that succeeds.
1 Brother, thou art gone before us, And thy saintly soul is flown, Where tears are wiped from every eye, And sorrows are unknown; From the burden of the flesh, And from care and fear, released, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest.
2 Sin no more can taint thy spirit, Nor can doubt thy faith assail; Thy soul its welcome has received, Thy strength shall never fail; And thou'rt sure to meet the good, Whom on earth thou lovedst best, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest.