God, from his cloudy cistern, pours
On the parch’d earth enriching show’rs;
The grove, the garden and the field
A thousand joyful blessings yield.

What noble fruit the vines produce!
The olive yields a shining juice;
Our hearts are cheer’d with gen’rous wine,
With inward joy our faces shine.

Behold the stately cedar stands,
Raised in the forest by his hands;
Birds to the boughs for shelter fly,
And build their nests secure on high.

Recordings 1 2 3