1 Author of good, we rest on Thee;
Thine ever watchful eye
Alone our real wants can see,
Thy hand alone supply.
2 In Thine all-gracious providence
Our cheerful hopes confide;
O, let Thy power be our defence,
Thy love our footsteps guide!
3 And since, by passion's force subdued,
Too oft, with stubborn will,
We blindly shun the latent good,
And grasp the specious ill, --
4 Not what we wish, but what we want,
Thy mercy still supply!
The good unasked, O Father, grant;
The ill, though asked, deny!