God Bids, and Lo!

God bids

and lo! a burn­ing waste

Where rolled the floods be­fore

And

touched by the de­scend­ing blast

The springs are seen no more.

Sad wit­ness of some dire of­fense

Behold the fer­tile soil

No more its wont­ed gifts dis­pense

But mock the till­er’s toil.

He bids

and o’er the de­sert wide

The li­quid lake is spread;

New springs the thirs­ty earth di­vide

And mur­mur­ing lift the head.

There myr­iads

late with hun­ger wan

By Him as­sem­bled

meet;

There pleased the fu­ture ci­ty plan

And fix their sure re­treat.

And now they sow the food­ful grain

The ten­der vine they rear;

Now waves the har­vest o’er the plain

And plen­ty crowns the year.

Blest in His care

the sires with joy

A nu­mer­ous race be­hold;

Nor dares dis­ease their herds an­noy

Or waste the peo­pled fold.

His works at­tent­ive while it sees

The Heav’n-in­struct­ed mind

Shall own

how eq­ual His de­crees

His pro­vi­dence

how kind!