Once more, my soul, the rising day
Salutes thy waking eyes;
Once more, my voice, thy tribute pay
To him that 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.

A thousand wretched souls are fled
Since the last setting sun,
And yet thou length’nest out my thread,
And yet my moments run.

Recordings 1