THOUGH hearts were cool and wills perverse,
And every channel dry;
Exhaustless flow those heavenly springs
Which all my wants supply.

An all-foreseeing God provides,
Where I no prospect find;
And, guided by his hand, I leave
Darkness and woe behind.

Hope, from the everlasting hills,
On shining wing descends;
And Faith, pre-eminently bright,
Her sacred flight attends.