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CLXIV

Hark, my soul, how every thing

Strives to serve our bounteous King;

Each a double tribute pays;

Sings its part, and then obeys.

Nature's sweet and chiefest quire

Him with cheerful notes admire;

Chanting every day their lauds176176lauds here has reference to the Office, for which this hymn was written,

While the grove their song applauds.

Though their voices lower be,

Streams have too their melody;

Night and day they warbling run,

Never pause, but still sing on.

All the flowers that gild the spring

Hither their still music bring;

If Heaven bless them, thankful they

Smell more sweet, and look more gay.

Only we can scarce afford

This short office to our LORD;

We,--on whom His bounty flows,

All things gives, and nothing owes.

Wake, for shame, my sluggish heart,

Wake, and gladly sing thy part:

Learn of birds, and springs, and flowers,

How to use thy noble powers.

Call whole Nature to thy aid,

Since 'twas He whole Nature made;

Join in one eternal song,

Who to one GOD all belong.

Live for ever, glorious LORD,

Live, by all Thy works adored;

One in Three, and Three in One,

Thrice we bow to Thee alone.


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