 | Poems on several occasions |  |
133
On the late plentiful Harvest.
What thanks to that Almighty Pow'r
Do we base mortals owe,
That sent such plenty in each show'r,
And eas'd our heavy woe.
Do we base mortals owe,
That sent such plenty in each show'r,
And eas'd our heavy woe.
Young men and maids, old men and babes,
Attend his awful shrine;
Whose goodness makes the barren glebes
In full abundance shine.
Attend his awful shrine;
Whose goodness makes the barren glebes
In full abundance shine.
Thou bounteous Source! immortal King!
All praises are thy due;
To thee, great Author, we will sing,
And daily them renew.
All praises are thy due;
To thee, great Author, we will sing,
And daily them renew.
134
Yea, long as this frail life shall last,
Thy wond'rous works adore;
And trust, when sting of death is past,
To praise for evermore.
Thy wond'rous works adore;
And trust, when sting of death is past,
To praise for evermore.
| Poems on several occasions | |