Almighty King! whose wondrous hand
Supports the weight of sea and land;
Whose grace is such a boundless store,
No heart shall break that sighs for more.

Thy providence supplies my food,
And 'tis Thy blessing makes it good;
My soul is nourished by Thy word,
Let soul and body praise the Lord.

My streams of outward comfort came
From Him, Who built this earthly frame;
Whate'er I want His bounty gives,
By Whom my soul forever lives.

Either His hand preserves from pain,
Or, if I feel it, heals again;
From Satan's malice shields my breast,
Or overrules it for the best.

Forgive the song that falls so low
Beneath the gratitude I owe;
It means Thy praise, however poor,
An angel's song can do no more.