1 Is this the kind return, And these the thanks we owe, Thus to abuse eternal love, Whence all our blessings flow?
2 TO what a stubborn frame Has sin reduc'd our mind! What strange rebellious wretches we, And God as strangely kind!
3 [On us he bids the sun Shed his reviving rays, For us the skies their circles run To lengthen out our days.
4 The brutes obey their God, And bow their necks to men, But we more base, more brutish things Reject his easy reign.]
5 Turn, turn us, mighty God, And mould our souls afresh, Break, sovereign grace, these hearts of stone, And give us hearts of flesh.
6 Let old ingratitude Provoke our weeping eyes, And hourly as new mercies fall Let hourly thanks arise.