The Spring, Great God, at Thy Command

The spring

great God

at Thy com­mand

Leads forth the smil­ing year;

Gay ver­dure

fo­liage

blooms and flow­ers

T’adorn her reign

ap­pear.

But soon canst Thou in right­eous wrath

Blast all the pro­mised joy

The ele­ments await Thy nod

To bless

or to des­troy.

The sun

Thy min­is­ter of love

That from the na­ked ground

Calls forth the hid­den seeds to birth

And spreads their beau­ties round;

But now

at God’s dread or­der sends

Destructive darts and fires;

Hills

plains

and vales are parched with drought

And bloom­ing life ex­pires.

Like bur­nished brass

the heav’n around

In ang­ry ter­ror burns;

Our earth be­comes a joy­less waste

And in­to ir­on turns.

O pity

Lord

in our dis­tress

Nor with our land con­tend;

Bid the av­eng­ing skies re­lent

And show­ers of mer­cy send.