Verse 1
O thou, whose wisdom, power and love
For all thy works provide,
Which those vast orbs that roul above
And our low center guide.
Verse 2
The rich, the poor, the mean, the great
Are link’d by thy strong hands;
Poiz’d on its base the work’s compleat,
The firm composure stands.
Verse 3
The meanest worm that creeps on earth
Is not below thy care;
And we, altho’ of humble birth,
Thy God-like bounty share.
Verse 4
Whoe’er thy being dare dispute
Are silenc’d here with ease;
The stones themselves would them confute,
If we should hold our peace.
Verse 5
Th’ Almighty be their strong defence,
And multiply their store,
Who still concur with providence,
Still[1] aid and bless the poor.
[1] Wesley changed “still” to “to” in 1748.