Once More, My Soul, the Rising Day

Once more

my soul

the ris­ing day

Salutes thy wak­ing eyes;

Once more

my voice

thy trib­ute pay

To Him that rules the skies.

Night un­to night His name re­peats

The day re­news the sound

Wide as the Heav’n on which He sits

To turn the sea­sons round.

’Tis He sup­ports my mor­tal frame

My tongue shall speak His praise;

My sins would rouse His wrath to flame

And yet His wrath de­lays.

On a poor worm Thy pow­er might tread

And I could ne’er with­stand;

Thy jus­tice might have crushed me dead

But mer­cy held Thine hand.

A thou­sand wretch­ed souls are fled

Since the last set­ting sun

And yet Thou length’n­est out my thread

And yet my mo­ments run.

Dear God

let all my hours be Thine

Whilst I en­joy the light;

Then shall my sun in smiles de­cline

And bring a pleas­ing night.