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Saturday Lauds.
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Saturday Lauds.

Hymn XXVI.

[My God, to Thee our selvs we ow]

My God, to Thee our selvs we ow,
And to Thy bounty, all we have:
Behold to Thee our praises bow,
And humbly thy acceptance crave.
If we are happy in a friend,
That very friend 'tis Thou bestow'st:

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His pow'r, his will, to help our end,
Is just so much as thou allow'st.
If we enjoy a free estate,
Our only Title is from Thee:
Thou mad'st our lot to bear that rate,
Which else an empty blank would be.
If we have helth, that wel-tun'd grownd,
Which gives the Musick to the rest:
It is by Thee our ayr is sound,
Our food secur'd, our physick blest.
If we have hope one day to view
The glorys of thy blysful face:
Each drop of that refreshing dew
Must fall from heav'n and thy free grace:
Thus then to Thee our praises bow,
And humbly thy acceptance crave:
Since 'tis to Thee our selvs we ow,
And to thy bounty all we have.
Glory to Thee, great God, alone;
Three persons in one Deity:
As it has been in ages gone;
May now, and stil for ever be.