Man below, the Lord of nature,
Angel choirs in realms above,
Hymning, praise the great Creator,
Praise th' eternal Fount of Love.
Teach us, Lord, to sing Thy glory,
Till in Heav'n we take our place;
Till we cast our crowns before Thee,
Lost in wonder, love, and praise.
HYMN 100.
Praise to God, immortal praise
For the love that crowns our days;
Bounteous source of ev'ry joy,
Let Thy praise our tongues employ;
All to Thee our God, we owe,
Source whence all our blessings flow.
All the blessings of the fields,
All the stores the garden yields,
locks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow sheaves of ripen'd grain;
Lord, for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.
Clouds that drop refreshing dews,
Suns that genial warmth diffuse,
All the plenty summer pours,
Autumn's rich o'erflowing stores;
Lord for these our souls shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.
Peace, prosperity, and health,
Private joys and public wealth,
Knowledge, with its glad'ning streams,
