For joys and sorrows rise and set
With never-failing eve and morn;
Night yields unto another dawn
And then we say that we "forget."
O Thou whose passions are divine,
Contemn not that Thou didst create!
In soul or body, love or hate,
We are but what Thou didst design.
Thou mad'st us mortal, and we hate
And love as mortals. Grace divine!