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HYMN.
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241

HYMN.

GLORY TO GOD.

To thee, creative God, I owe
All that I have, or hope, or know;
Each ray of mind, that seems to shine,
Is but a passing gleam of thine!
The lustred heavens present thy zone,
The peopled earth, thy living throne;
This globe, which nature holds of thee,
Is bound by thy infinity!
Poor, and unblessed, not mine the power,
To shield from want one frugal hour,
When through thy pitying care I drew
The bread of peace and promise too.
How vain the pride of man appears,
How weak the vigour of his years,
Yet thou the VITAL RAY hast given,
That lights and leads his hope to heaven.