His dreams, devotions, deeds, his all, O soul,
Or great or small beneath divine control.
The gracious seasons roll in mighty numbers;
The snow, the sleet but falls, that He who slumbers
Not may again awake the earth to life
And stay, for man and all, the winter’s strife.
The raging storm, the great earthquake and war
Are music bound, if we but see afar;
From heart of heav’n to heart of hell—ah yes;
The prince of darkness is beset, not less—