So every morn and night, my voice To heaven the grateful strain shall raise; In you as guardian powers rejoice, Good angels, and exalt your praise:

So will I strive with zealous fire Each vice to shun, each fault correct; Will love the lessons you inspire, And prize the virtues you protect.

Then when at length by high command My body seeks the grave’s repose, When death draws nigh with friendly hand My failing pilgrim eyes to close;

Pleased that my soul has ’scaped the wreck, Sighless will I my life resign, And yield to God my spirit back, As pure as when it first was mine.