67t Peterboro
Once more, my soul, the rising day Salutes thy waking eyes; Once more, my voice, thy tribute pay To Him who rules the skies. 'Tis He supports my mortal frame, My tongue shall speak His praise; My sins would rouse His wrath to flame, And yet His wrath delays. How many wretched souls are fled Since the last setting sun! And yet Thou length'nest out my thread, And yet my moments run. |