Words: James A. Mitchell, in the School Hymnal, edited by William R. Stevenson (London: E. Marlborough, 1880), number 114.
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All things bless Thee, God most holy,
To Thy feet their worship bring;
Thou art worthy of all praises,
Ever blessèd glorious King.
Earth, and air, and ocean’s fullness,
All Thy power and love declare;
And in this exultant chorus,
May not little children share?
Childhood’s treasures are Thy giving,
Sunny days and laughing hours,
Daisied meadows in the springtime,
Roses in the summer bowers—
Food and raiment, home and shelter,
Sleep for wearied eye and limb,
Dawning day, and happy waking
To the birds’ sweet morning hymn.
And when old and young had wandered
Into faults and follies wild,
Surely Thou didst think of children,
Sending forth Thy Son a child.
Lord, forgive our many errors,
And restore us when we fall,
Thy loved Child is our Redeemer—
By His mercy save us all.
Help us now to be as He was,
Pure and gentle, good and kind,
Give us of His peaceful spirit,
meek and lowly mind.
Teach our hearts to feel Thy mercy,
Turn our eyes to look to Thee;
May we trust in Thee our Father,
And Thy loving children be.
And when youth’s brief morn is over,
Still be Thou our constant guide;
Through the hot day’s dusty travel,
Set of sun, and eventide.
And when death’s dark night has fallen,
Lead us through the
Satisfy us with Thy presence,
Be our joy forevermore.