That does not from Thy bounteous love,
O heavenly Father, flow?
4 Who built the lofty firmament?
Who spread th' expanse of blue?
By whom are to our pastures sent
Refreshing rain and dew?
5 Who warmeth us in cold and frost?
Who shields us from the wind?
Who orders it that oil and must
We in their season find?
6 Who is it life and health bestows?
Who keeps us with His hand
In golden peace, wards off war's woes
From our dear native land?
7 O Lord, of this and all our store
Thou art the author blest;
Thou keepest watch before our door,
While we securely rest.
8 Thou feedest us from year to year,
And constant dost abide :
With ready help in time of fear
Thou standest at our side.
9 With patience dost Thou ever chide,
And chasten'st sparingly;
Thou castest all our sins aside,
And drown'st them in the sea.
10 When silent woe our bosom rends,
Thy pity sees our grief,
And gives what to our glory tends
No less than our relief..
11 Thou knowest when a Christian weeps, And why his tear-drops fall;
And in the book Thy mercy keeps
These things are noted all.
12 Our deepest needs dost Thou supply, Thou giv'st what lasts for aye, Thou lead'st us to our home on high, When hence we pass away.
13 Cheer up! my heart, rejoice and sing, A cheerful trust maintain !
For God, the source of everything,
Thy portion will remain.
14 He is thy treasure, He thy joy,
Thy life, and light, and Lord,
Thy counsellor when doubts annoy,
Thy shield and great reward.
15 In restless thought or blank despair,
Why spend each day and night?
On Him who made thee cast thy care;
He makes our burdens light.
16 Did not His love, and truth, and power Watch o'er thy childhood's day? Has He not oft in threatening hour, Turned dreaded ills away?
17 His wisdom never plans in vain,
Ne'er falters or mistakes;
All that His counsels did ordain
A happy ending makes.
18 Upon thy lips, then, lay thy hand,
And trust His guiding love;
Then firm as rock thy peace shall stand,
Here and in heaven above.
WE sing th' almighty power of God,
Who bade the mountains rise,
Who spread the flowing seas abroad,
And built the lofty skies.
2 We sing the wisdom that ordained The sun to rule the day,
The moon shines, too, at His command, And all the stars obey.
3 We sing the goodness of the Lord,
Who fills the earth with food;
Who formed His creatures by a word,
And then pronounced them good.
4 Lord, how Thy wonders are displayed, Where'er we turn our eyes,
Whether we view the ground we tread, Or gaze upon the skies!
5 There's not a plant nor flower below
But makes Thy glories known;
And clouds arise and tempests blow
By order from Thy throne.
6 On Thee each moment we depend:
If Thou withdraw, we die.
O may we ne'er that God offend,
Who is forever nigh!
To Thee, O Lord, our hearts we raise
In hymns of adoration,
To Thee bring sacrifice of praise
With shouts of exultation:
Bright robes of gold the fields adorn,
The hills with joy are ringing,
The valleys stand so thick with corn
That even they are singing.
2 And now on this our festal day,
Thy bounteous hand confessing,
Upon Thine altar, Lord, we lay
The first-fruits of Thy blessing.
By Thee the souls of men are fed
With gifts of grace supernal,
Thou who dost give us earthly bread,
Give us the Bread eternal.
3 We bear the burden of the day,
And often toil seems dreary;
But labor ends with sunset ray,
And rest comes for the weary.
May we, the angel-reaping o'er,
Stand at the last accepted,
Christ's golden sheaves for evermore
To garners bright elected.
4 Oh, blessed is that land of God,
Where saints abide forever;
Where golden fields spread fair and
broad,
Where flows the crystal river: The strains of all its holy throng With ours today are blending; Thrice blessed is that harvest-song Which never hath an ending.
COME, ye thankful people, come,
Raise the song of Harvest-home;
All is safely gathered in,
Ere the winter storms begin;
God, our Maker, doth provide
For our wants to be supplied;
Come to God's own temple, come;
Raise the song of Harvest-home.
2 We ourselves are God's own field,
Fruit unto His praise to yield;
Wheat and tares together sown,
Unto joy or sorrow grown;
First the blade, and then the ear,
Then the full corn shall appear:
Lord of harvest, grant that we
Wholesome grain and pure may be.
3 For the Lord, our God, shall come,
And shall take His harvest home;
From His field shall purge away
All that doth offend, that day;
Give His angels charge at last
In the fire the tares to cast,
But the fruitful ears to store
In His garner evermore.
4 Come, Thou Lord of harvest, come
To Thy final Harvest-home;
Gather Thou Thy people in,
Free from sorrow, free from sin;
There, forever purified,
In Thy garner to abide;
Come with all Thine angels, come,
Raise the glorious Harvest-home!
CHRIST, by heav'nly hosts ador'd,
Gracious, mighty, sov'reign Lord,
God of nations, King of kings,
Head of all created things,
By the Church with joy confess'd,
God o'er all forever blest;
Pleading at Thy throne we stand,
Save Thy people, bless our land.
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