XLIII. The Year crowned with the divine Goodness.

ETERNAL Source of ev'ry Joy!
Well may thy Praise our Lips employ,
While in thy Temple we appear,
Whose Goodness crowns the circling Year.

Wide as the Wheels of Nature roll
Thy Hand supports the steady Pole:
The Sun is taught by thee to rise,
And Darkness when to veil the Skies.

The flow'ry Spring at thy Command
Embalms the Air, and paints the Land;
The Summer Rays with Vigour shine
To raise the Corn, and chear the Vine.

Thy Hand in Autumn richly pours
Thro' all our Coasts redundant Stores;
And Winters, soft'ned by thy Care,
No more a Face of Horror wear.

Seasons, and Months, and Weeks, and Days
Demand successive Songs of Praise;
Still be the chearful Homage paid
With opening Light, and evening Shade.

Here in thy House shall Incense rise,
As circling Sabbaths bless our Eyes;
Still will we make thy Mercies known,
Around thy Board, and round our own.

O may our more harmonious Tongues
In Worlds unknown persue the Songs;
And in those brighter Courts adore,
Where Days and Years revolve no more.