How various and how new

Are thy compassions, Lord!

Each morning shall thy mercies show,

Each night thy truth record.

2 Thy goodness, like the sun,

Dawned on our early days,

Ere infant reason had begun

To form our lips to praise.

3 Each object we beheld

Gave pleasure to our eyes;

And nature all our senses held

In bands of sweet surprise.

4 But pleasures more refined

Awaited that blest day,

When light arose upon our mind

And chased our sins away.

5 How new thy mercies, then!

How sovereign and how free!

Our souls, that had been dead in sin,

Were made alive to thee.