Father of all! we bow to thee,
Who dwells in heav’n ador’d;
But present still thro’ all thy works,
The universal Lord.
All hallow’d be thy sacred name,
O’er all the nations known;
Advance the kingdom of thy grace,
And let thy glory come.
A grateful homage may we yield,
With hearts resigned to thee;
And as in heav’n thy will is done,
On earth so let it be.
From day to day we humbly own
The hand that feeds us still;
Give us our bread, and we may rest
Contented in thy will.
Our sins and trespasses we own;
O may they be forgiv’n!
That mercy we to others shew,
We pray the like from Heav’n.
Our life let still thy grace direct,
From evil guard our way,
And in temptation’s fatal path
Permit us not to stray.
For thine the pow’r, the kingdom thine,
All glory’s due to thee:
Thine from eternity they were,
And thine shall ever be.
THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.—BY MR. POPE.
Father of all, in ev’ry
In ev’ry clime ador’d;
By saint, by savage, and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord.
Thou great First Cause, least understood;
Who all my sense confin’d,
To know but this, that thou art good,
And that myself am blind:
Yet gave me in this dark estate,
To see the good from ill;
And binding Nature fast in fate,
Left free the human Will.
What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do,
This, teach me more than hell to shun,
That, more than heav’n pursue.
What blessings thy free bounty gives;
Let me not cast away;
For God is paid when man receives,
T’ enjoy is to obey.
Yet not to earth’s contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound,
Or think thee Lord alone of Man,
When thousand worlds are round:
Let not this weak unknowing hand
Presume thy bolts to throw,
And deal damnation round the land,
On each I judge thy foe.
If I am right, thy grace impart,
Still in the right to stay;
If I am wrong, O teach my heart
To find that better way.
Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious discontent,
At aught thy wisdom has deny’d,
Or aught thy goodness lent.
Teach me to feel another’s woe,
To hide the fault I see;
That mercy I to others shew,
That mercy show to me.
Mean though I am, not wholly so,
Since quicken’d by thy breath;
Oh lead me wheresoe’er I go,
Through this day’s life or death.
This day be bread and peace my lot:
All else beneath the sun,
Thou knowst if best bestow’d