How Hast Thou, Lord, from Year to Year

How hast Thou

Lord

from year to year

Our land with plen­ty crowned!

And gen­er­ous fruit and gold­en grain

Have spread their rich­es round.

But we Thy mer­cies have abused

To more ab­ound­ing crimes;

What heights

what dar­ing heights in sin

Disgrace and mark our times!

Equal

though aw­ful

is the doom

That fierce des­cend­ing rain

Should into in­un­da­tions swell

And crush the ris­ing grain!

How just

that in the au­tumn’s reign

When we had hoped to reap

Our fields of sor­row and des­pair

Should lie a hi­de­ous heap!

But Lord

have mer­cy on our land

Those floods of ven­geance stay:

Dispel these glooms

and let the sun

Shine in un­cloud­ed day!

To Thee alone we look for help;

None else of dew or rain

Can give the world the small­est drop

Or small­est drop re­strain.