Earth’s migh­ty Mak­er, whose com­mand
Raised from the sea the so­lid land,
And drove each bil­lowy heap away,
And bade the earth stand firm for aye:

That so, with flow­ers of gold­en hue,
The seeds of each it might re­new;
And fruit trees bear­ing fruit might yield—
And plea­sant pas­ture of the field;

Our spir­it’s rank­ling wounds ef­face
With dewy fresh­ness of Thy grace:
That grief may cleanse each deed of ill,
And o’er each lust may tri­umph still.

Let ev­ery soul Thy law ob­ey,
And keep from ev­ery ev­il way;
Rejoice each pro­mised good to win
And flee from ev­ery mor­tal sin.

O Fa­ther, that we ask be done,
Through Je­sus Christ, Thine on­ly Son;
Who, with the Ho­ly Ghost and Thee,
Doth live and reign eter­nal­ly.