450b Consolation
Once more, my soul, the rising day Salutes thy waking eyes; Once more, my voice, thy tribute pay To Him that rules the skies. Night unto night His name repeats, The day renews the sound, Wide as the heav'ns on which He sits, To turn the seasons round. 'Tis He supports my mortal frame; My tongue shall speak His praise; My sin might rouse His wrath to flame, But yet His wrath delays. |