And loud thanksgivings raise;
’Tis duty, mingled with delight,
The Savior’s name to praise.
To him we owe our breath,
He took us from the womb,
Which else had shut us up in death,
And proved an early tomb.
When on the breast we hung
Our help was in the Lord;
’Twas he first taught our infant tongue
To form the lisping word.
When in our blood we lay
He would not let us die,
Because his love had fixed a day
To bring salvation nigh.
In childhood and in youth
His eye was on us still;
Though strangers to his love and truth,
And prone to cross his will.
And since his name we knew,
How gracious has he been!
What dangers has he led us through,
What mercies have we seen!
Now through another year
Supported by his care;
We raise our Ebenezer here,
“The Lord has helped thus far.”
Our lot in future years
Unable to foresee
He, kindly to prevent our fears,
Says, “Leave it all to me.”
Yea, Lord, we wish to cast
Our cares upon thy breast!
Help us to praise thee for the past,
And trust thee for the rest.
(John Newton and William Cowper, 18th century).
Comments