There�s not a bird with lonely nest,
In pathless wood or mountain crest,
Nor meaner thing, which does not share,
O God, in Thy paternal care.
Each barren crag, each desert rude,
Holds Thee within its solitude;
And Thou dost bless the wand�rer there,
Who makes his solitary prayer.
In busy mart and crowded street,
No less than in the still retreat,
Thou, Lord, art near, our souls to bless
With all a parent�s tenderness.
And we, where�er our lot is cast,
While life, and thought, and feeling last,
Through all the years, in every place,
Will bless Thee for Thy boundless grace.