The Rolling Year, Almighty Lord!

The roll­ing year

al­migh­ty Lord!

Obeys Thy pow­er­ful nod:

Each sea­son as it si­lent moves

Declares the pre­sent God.

The var­ied months are full of Thee

With Thy rich boun­ty crowned:

The circ­ling days

and fleet winged hours

Thy va­ri­ous praise re­sound.

Waked by Thy voice

out steps the spring

In liv­ing green new dressed:

On hills

in vales

thro’ fields and groves

Thy beau­ties stand con­fessed.

Now joy the liv­ing tribes in­spires;

The birds sweet mu­sic bring:

The bleat­ing flocks the con­cert join

And riv­ers seem to sing.

The sun calls forth the sum­mer months

Nor do the hours de­lay:

The fruits with var­ied co­lors glow

Beneath his rip­en­ing ray.

’Tis now

al­migh­ty God! we see

The fork­èd light­nings fly:

Now ’tis Thy voice in thun­der roars

And shakes the low­er sky.

Thy boun­ty

Lord

in au­tumn shines

And spreads a com­mon feast:

He that regards His fa­vo­rite

man

Will not ne­glect the beast.

When win­ter rears her hoa­ry head

And shows her fur­rowed brow

In storms and tem­pests

frosts and snows

How aw­ful

Lord

art Thou!

The roll­ing year

al­migh­ty Lord!

Obeys Thy pow­er­ful nod:

Each sea­son as it si­lent moves

Declares the pre­sent God.