V. A Song of Praise for Provision.
1
Come, let us praise our Masters Hand
VVhich gives us daily Bread.
Thy House, my Lord, is full of Guests,
Thy Table Richly Spread.
Earth is thy Table, where thy Guests
Do daily Sit and Feed.
Thy Hand Carves every One his part,
And suffers None to need.
2
Naked came I into the VVorld,
And Nothing with me brought;
And nothing have I here deserv'd,
Yet have I lacked Naught.
I do not Bless my labouring Hand,
My labouring Head or Chance.
Thy Providence, most Gracious God,
Is mine Inheritance.
3
Thy Bounty gives me Bread with Peace,
A Table free from Strife.
Thy Blessing is the Staffe of Bread,
VVhich is the Staffe of Life.
The people Sate in Companies,
My Saviour Fed them all;
So all the Families of the Earth
Have Tables in Gods Hall.
4
The Vine and Olive branches too
Are Nourish'd by thy Care.
Mercies we Eat, Mercies we drink,
Mercies we daily wear.
Shall I repine against my God
That kept me all my dayes?
Then let my Tongue forget to tast,
When it forgets to praise.
