To thee let my first offerings rise,

Whose sun creates the day;

Swift as his gladdening influence flies,

And spotless as his ray.

2 This day thy favoring hand be nigh,

So oft vouchsafed before:

Still may it lead, protect, supply,

And I that hand adore.

3 If bliss thy providence impart,

For which, resigned, I pray;

Give me to feel the grateful heart,

And thus thy love repay.

4 Afflictions should thy love intend,

As vice or folly’s cure,

Patient to gain that glorious end,

May I the means endure!

5 Be this and every future day

Still wiser than the past,

And when I all my life survey,

May grace sustain at last.