Let our glad thanksgivings be
To Thy throne, O Lord, ascending,—
Incense of our hearts to Thee.
3 Thou, whose favors without number
All our days with gladness bless,
Let Thine eye, that knows no slumber,
Guard our hours of helplessness.
4 Then, though conscious we are sleeping
In the outer courts of death,
Safe beneath a Father’s keeping,