81
Grace and Providence
I
Almighty King! whose wondrous hand
Supports the weight of sea and land,
Whose grace is such a boundless store
No heart shall break that sighs for more,
II
Thy providence supplies my food,
And ’tis thy blessing makes it good;
My soul is nourish’d by thy word
Let soul and body praise the Lord.
III
My streams of outward comfort came
From him, who built this earthly frame;
Whate’er I want his bounty gives,
By whom my soul for ever lives.
IV
Either his hand preserves from pain,
Or, if I feel it, heals again;
From Satan’s malice shields my breast,
Or over-rules it for the best.
V
Forgive the song that falls so low
Beneath the gratitude I owe!
It means thy praise, however poor—
An angel’s song can do no more.