The moon to run her destined space

1 The Moon to run her destin'd Space
Fills her pale Orb with borro'd Rays,
The appointed Sun with just Carreer
Metes out the Day, the Month, the Year,
His Lamp withdrawn then ravening stray
Wild Beasts, outragious for their Prey'
The Lion roars his wants aloud
And roaring, seeks his Meat from God.

2 When from the East glows with opening Day
Back to their Dens they haste away:
Nor sooner are the Shades of Night
Fled from the Suns returning Light,
Then the strong Husbandman renews
His Toil, his daily Task pursues,
Till Evening calls again to rest,
Both toiling Man and weary Beast.

3 How various is thy Praise display'd
O Lord, in all thy Hands have made!
Lost in amazement down we fall;
In Wisdom thou hast made them all;
How on the Earth thy Riches shower
Incessant, unexhausted Store;
New every Morn thy Gifts appear;
Great God, thy Goodness fills the Year.

4 And yet, low other Scenes disclose!
The Sea no less thy Goodness shews,
Here the finn'd Race unnumber'd stray,
Dive deep, or on the Surface play,
Here huge Leviathan may reign
Sole Tyrant of the watry Plain,
He moves; the boiling Deeps divide;
He breathes a Storm and spouts a Tide.

Source: A Collection of Psalms and Hymns #C.Vc