Wake now, my Soul, and humbly hear

Wake now, my Soul, and humbly hear
What thy mild Lord commands:
Each word of his wil charm thine ear,
Each word wil guide thy hands.
Hark how his sweet and tender care
Complys with our weak minds:
What e're our state and temper are,
Stil some fit work he finds.
They that are merry let them sing,
And let the sad harts pray:
Let those stil ply their cheerful wing;
And these their sober way.
So mounts the early chirping Lark
Stil upward to the Skys
So sits the Turtle in the dark,
Among her groans and crys.
And yet the Lark, and yet the Dove,
Both sing, though several parts:
And so should we, how e're we move
With light or heavy harts.
Or rather Both should both assay;
And their cross-notes unite:
Both grief and joy should sing and pray;
Since both such hopes invite.
Hopes that all present sorrow heal;
All present joy transcend;
Hopes to possess, and tast, and feel
Delights that never end.
All glory to the sacred Three,
All honor, power and praise:
As at the first, may ever be
Beyond the end of days.