1 Is this the kind return,
And these the thanks we owe,
Thus to abuse eternal love,
Whence all our blessings flow?

2 TO what a stubborn frame
Has sin reduc'd our mind!
What strange rebellious wretches we,
And God as strangely kind!

3 [On us he bids the sun
Shed his reviving rays,
For us the skies their circles run
To lengthen out our days.

4 The brutes obey their God,
And bow their necks to men,
But we more base, more brutish things
Reject his easy reign.]

5 Turn, turn us, mighty God,
And mould our souls afresh,
Break, sovereign grace, these hearts of stone,
And give us hearts of flesh.

6 Let old ingratitude
Provoke our weeping eyes,
And hourly as new mercies fall
Let hourly thanks arise.