Thus ev'ry want is by his bounty fed.
When from his paths I err, by pride misled,
My soul his kind restoring mercy knows;
He brings me joy, and saves from direful woes;
Then let my tongue his praises ever spread.
Yea, though I walk through death's most dreary vale,
Where unshap'd shadows glide and bring affright,
Since thou art with me naught shall wake my fear.
The path, tho' dark and fill'd with mis'ry's wail,
Guides to yon distant, growing, glorious light,