How dearly God doth love us,
And this poor world of ours,
To spread blue skies above us,
And deck the earth with flow’rs!
There’s not a blossom lowly,
Nor bird that cleaves the air,
But tells, in accents holy,
His kindness and his care.

He bids the sun to warm us,
And light the path we tread;
At night, lest aught should harm us,
He guards our lowly bed.
He gives our needful clothing,
And sends our daily food;
His love denies us nothing
His wisdom deemeth good.

The Bible, too, he gave us,
That tells how Jesus came,
Whose word can save and cleanse us
From guilt and sin and shame.
O may God’s mercies move us
To serve him with our pow’rs;
For O, how he doth love us,
And this poor world of ours!