O throned, O crowned with all renown,
Since Thou the earth hast trod,
Thou reignest, and by Thee come down
Henceforth the gifts of God.
By Thee the suns of space, that burn
Unspent, their watches hold;
The hosts that turn, and still return
Are swayed, and poised, and rolled.
The powers of earth, for all her ills,
An endless treasure yield;
The precious things of ancient hills,
Forest, and fruitful field;
Thine is the health, and Thine the wealth
That in our halls abound;
And Thine the beauty and the joy
With which the years are crowned.
And as, when ebbed the flood, our sires
Kneeled on the mountain sod,
While o’er the new world’s altar fires
Shone out the bow of God;
And sweetly fell the peaceful spell—
Word that shall aye avail—
Summer and winter shall not cease,
Seed time nor harvest fail.
Thus in their change let frost and heat
And winds and dew be giv’n;
All fostering power, all influence sweet,
Breathe from the bounteous Heav’n.
Attemper fair with gentle air
The sunshine and the rain,
That kindly earth with timely birth
May yield her fruits again;
That we may feed Thy poor aright,
And, gathering round Thy throne,
Here in the holy angels’ sight
Repay Thee of Thine own.
For so our sires in olden time
Spared neither gold nor gear,
Nor precious wood, nor hewen stone,
Thy sacred shines to rear.
For there to give the second birth
In mysteries and signs,
The face of Christ o’er all the earth
On keeling myriads shines.
And if so fair beyond compare
Thine earthly houses be,
In how great grace shall we Thy face
In Thine own palace see?