Thomas Jarman - Eternal source of every joy - текст песни (слова)

Eternal source of every joy,
 Well may thy praise our lips employ;
 While in thy temple we appear,
 Whose goodness crowns the circling year.
 
 The flow'ry spring at thy command
 Embalms the air, and paints the land:
 The summer rays with vigour shine
 To raise the corn and cheer the vine. 
 
 Thy hand, in autumn, richly pours
 Through all our coasts redundant stores;
 And winters, soften'd by thy care
 No more a face of horror wear. 
 
 Seasons, and months, and weeks, and days
 Demand successive songs of praise:
 Still be the cheerful homage paid
 With opening light, and evening shade.