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James Montgomery

Poor Children praying for themselves and their benefactors.

God over all, the sun by day

Reveals Thy glory in His light;

The moon and stars Thy voice obey,

And mark Thy presence through the night.


God over all, the earth that yields

Her flowers and fruits at Thy command,

From mountains, rivers, woods, and fields,

Pours the rich bounties of Thy hand.

To us, the poorest of the poor,

High as Thou art Thy care descends;

Thy mercies are for ever sure,

Thou art our Father, these our friends.

Are these our friends?--Thou God of grace,

Reward their love a thousand fold;

And may they ever in Thy face,

Their best, their dearest friend behold.

Art Thou our Father?--we confess,

With grief and shame our sin and guilt;

O turn from our unrighteousness,

Look on Thy Son,--His blood was spilt.

He bore the chastening of Thy rod,

That we might by His stripes be heal'd;

He died for us, the Lamb of God!

He rose, and our redemption seal'd.

And shall we, dare we, can we still

Resist Thy fear, Thy love despise?

No, take us,--soul, affection, will--

A free and living sacrifice.

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