A Song of Praise for Preservation

THou Lord who raised'st Heaven and Earth
Dost make thy Building stand,
The Weight whereof doth wholly Rest
On thine Almighty Hand:
Should'st thou withdraw thy Hand of might,
The Earth would quit its place;
The shining Heaven would vanish streight
Into meer empty Space.

For as that Liquors Scent remains,
Which first the Cask did Fill;
So Feeble Creatures hold the Scent
Of their first nothing still:
Lord, what is Man, that Child of Pride,
That boasts his High degree?
If one poor moment he be Left,
He Sinks, and where is He?

In Thee I Live and Move, and am,
Thou deal'st me out my days,
As thou renew'st my Being, Lord,
Let me renew thy Praise:
From thee I am, through thee I am,
And for thee I must be;
'Tis better for me not to live
Than not to live to thee.

My God, thou art my glorious Sun,
By whose bright Beams I shine;
As thou, Lord, ever art with Me,
Let me be ever thine.
Thou art my living Fountain, Lord,
Whose streams on me do flow;
My self I render unto thee,
To whom my self I owe.

As thou, Lord, an Immortal Soul
Has;t Breathed into me;
So let my Soul be Breathing forth
Immortal Thanks to Thee.