I. Before thy throne, O God of grace,
Thy Sion would her vows perform;
Her ardent vows in deep distress—
O be her grateful praise as warm.

II. O thou who hear'st our humble cry,
Our God, our refuge and our stay;
To thee, shall mourning sinners fly,
To thee, shall ev'ry nation pray.

III. Tho' sin prevails with dreadful sway,
And hope almost expiring lies,
Thy grace shall purge our sins away,
And bid our dying hopes arise.

IV. Happy the man approv'd by thee,
Near to his God, thy chosen care;
Thy constant goodness he shall see,
The bounties of thy table share.

V. Whene'er thy injur'd people's cries
Ascend before thy awful throne,
All dreadful bright thy terrors rise,
And make thy grace and justice known.

VI. Thou art the confidence and stay
Of the wide earth's remotest ends;
And those who try the dang'rous sea,
On thee their hope, their all depends.

VII. Thy awful word, with potent found
Firm bade the solid mountains stand;
Thy pow'r encircles nature round;
All nature rests upon thy hand.

VIII. That word which stills the raging seas,
When the loud waves tempestuous roar,
Commands the warring world to peace;
And noise and tumult are no more.

IX. Thy dreadful signs display'd abroad,
Fill trembling nations with surprize;
The trembling nations own the God,
And lift their supplicating eyes.

X. The rising morn, the closing day,
Repeat thy praise with grateful voice;
Each in their turns thy pow'r display,
And laden with thy gifts rejoice.

XI. Earth's wide-extended varying scenes,
All smiling round thy bounty show;
From seas or clouds, full magazines,
Thy rich diffusive blessings flow.

XII. Now earth receives the precious seed,
Which thy indulgent hand prepares;
And nourishes the future bread,
And answers all the sower's cares.

XIII. Thy sweet refreshing show'rs attend,
And thro' the ridges gently flow,
Soft on the springing corn descend;
And thy kind blessing makes it grow.

XIV. Thy goodness crowns the circling year,
Thy paths drop fatness all around;
Ev'n barren wilds thy praise declare,
And echoing hills return the sound.

XV. Here spreading flocks adorn the plain,
There plenty ev'ry charm displays;
Thy bounty cloaths each lovely scene,
And joyful nature shouts thy praise.