Thanks be to God! to whom earth owes
Sunshine and breeze,
The heath-clad hill, the vale's repose,
Streamlet and seas,
The snowdrop and the summer rose,
The many-voiced trees,

Thanks for the darkness that reveals
Night's starry dower;
And for the sable cloud that heals
Each fevered flower;
And for the rushing storm that peals
Our weakness and Thy power.

Thanks for the sweetly-lingering might
In music's tone;
For paths of knowledge, whose calm light
Is all thine own;
For thoughts that at the Infinite
Fold their bright wings alone.

Yet thanks that silence oft may flow
In dewlike store;
Thanks for the mysteries that show
How small our lore;
Thanks that we here so little know
And trust Thee all the more!

Thanks for the gladness that entwines
Our path below;
Each sunrise that incarnadines
The cold, still snow;
Thanks for the light of love which shines
With brightest earthly glow.

Thanks for Thine own thrice-blessed Word,
And Sabbath rest;
Thanks for the hope of glory stored
In mansions blest;
Thanks for the Spirit's comfort poured
Into the trembling breast.

Thanks, more thanks, to Him ascend,
Who died to win
Our life, and every trophy rend
From Death and Sin;
Till, when the thanks of earth shall end,
The thanks of Heaven begin.