My God, my king, Thy va­ri­ous praise
Shall fill the rem­nant of my days;
Thy grace em­ploy my hum­ble tongue
Till death and glo­ry raise the song.

The wings of ev­ery hour shall bear
Some thank­ful trib­ute to Thine ear;
And ev­ery set­ting sun shall see
New works of du­ty done for Thee.

Thy truth and jus­tice I’ll pro­claim;
Thy boun­ty flows, an end­less stream;
Thy mer­cy swift, Thine an­ger slow,
But dread­ful to the stub­born foe.

Thy works with so­ver­eign glo­ry shine,
And speak Thy ma­jes­ty di­vine;
Let us upon all shores pro­claim
[originally, Let Bri­tain round her shores pro­claim]
The sound and hon­or of Thy name.

Let dist­ant times and na­tions raise
The long suc­cess­ion of Thy praise;
And un­born ag­es make my song
The joy and la­bor of their tongue.

But who can speak Thy won­drous deeds?
Thy great­ness all our thoughts ex­ceeds;
Vast and un­search­able Thy ways,
Vast and im­mor­tal be Thy praise!