We Bless The Lord, The Just, The Good,
Who Fills Our Hearts With Joy And Food:
Who Pours His Blessings From The Skies,
And Loads Our Days With Rich Supplies.

He Sends The Sun His Circuit Round,
To Cheer The Fruits, To Warm The Ground;
He Bids The Clouds With Plenteous Rain
Refresh The Thirsty Earth Again.

‘Tis To His Care We Owe Our Breath,
And All Our Near Escapes With Death;
Safety And Health To God Belong;
He Heals The Weak, And Guards The Strong.

He Makes The Saint And Sinner Prove
The Common Blessings Of His Love;
But The Wide Difference That Remains,
Is Endless Joy, Or Endless Pains.

The Lord, That Bruised The Serpent’s Head,
On All The Serpent’s Seed Shall Tread;
The Stubborn Sinner’s Hope Confound,
And Smite Him With A Lasting Wound.

But His Right Hand His Saints Shall Raise
From The Deep Earth, Or Deeper Seas,
And Bring Them To His Courts Above;
There Shall They Taste His Special Love.