‘Tis by thy strength the mountains stand,
God of eternal power;
The sea grows calm at thy command,
And tempests cease to roar.
Thy morning light and ev’ning shade
Successive comforts bring;
Thy plenteous fruits make harvest glad,
Thy flowers adorn the spring.
Seasons and times, and moons and hours,
Heav’n, earth, and air, are thine;
When clouds distil in fruitful showers,
The Author is divine.
Those wand’ring cisterns in the sky,
Borne by the winds around
With wat’ry treasures well supply
The furrows of the ground.
The thirsty ridges drink their fill,
And ranks of corn appear;
Thy ways abound with blessings still,
Thy goodness crowns the year.
— Isaac Watts
(Psalm for the third Sunday after Epiphany.)