Fount of everlasting love,
Rich thy streams of mercy are;
Flowing purely from above,
Beauty marks their course afar.

Lo! thy church, athirst and faint,
Drinks the full, refreshing tide;
Thou hast heard her sad complaint,
Floods of grace are sweeping wide.

God of mercy, to thy throne,
Now our fervent thanks we bring;
Thine the glory, thine alone,
Joyous praise to thee we sing.

While we lift our grateful song,
Let the spirit still descend;
Roll the tide of grace along,
Widening, deepening, to the end.