Thy congregation then did make their habitation there: Of thine own goodness for the poor, O God, thou didst prepare.
Unto the multitude do not thy turtle's soul deliver: The congregation of thy poor do not forget for ever.
Behold, he smote the rock, and thence came streams and waters great; But can he give his people bread? and send them flesh to eat?
The earth thou visit'st, wat'ring it; thou mak'st it rich to grow With God's full flood; thou corn prepar'st, when thou provid'st it so.
Her rigs thou wat'rest plenteously, her furrows settelest: With show'rs thou dost her mollify, her spring by thee is blest.
So thou the year most lib'rally dost with thy goodness crown; And all thy paths abundantly on us drop fatness down.