Zinzendorff and Other Poems/"Thy mercies are new every morning and fresh every moment"
"Thy mercies are new every morning and fresh every moment."—David.
Oh Thou, who bounteous to their need,
Dost all earth's thronging pilgrims feed,
Dost bid for them in every clime,
The pregnant harvest know its time,
The flocks in verdant pastures dwell,
The corn aspire, the olive swell,
Fain would we bless that sleepless Eye
That doth our hourly wants descry.
—Thou pour'st us from the nested grove,
The minstrel-melody of love,
Thou giv'st us of the fruitage fair
That summer's ardent suns prepare,
Of honey from the rock that flows,
And of the perfume of the rose,
And of the breeze, whose balm repairs
The sickening waste of toils and cares.
—And tho', perchance, the ingrate knee
Bends not in praise, or prayer to thee,
Tho' Sin that stole with traitor-sway
Even Peter's loyalty away,
May strongly weave its seven-fold snare,
And bring dejection and despair;
Yet not the morn with cheering eye
More duly lights the expecting sky,
Nor surer speeds on pinion light
Each measur'd moment's trackless flight,
Than comes thy mercy's kind embrace
To feeble man's forgetful race.