Almighty King! Whose Wondrous Hand Supports The Weight Of Sea And Land, Whose Grace Is Such A Boundless Store, No Heart Shall Break That Sighs For More. Thy Providence Supplies My Food, And 'Tis Thy Blessing Makes It Good; My Soul Is Nourish'D By Thy Word, Let Soul And Body Praise The Lord. My Streams Of Outward Comfort Came From Him Who Built This Earthly Frame; Whate'Er I Want His Bounty Gives, By Whom My Soul For Ever Lives. Either His Hand Preserves From Pain, Or, If I Feel It, Heals Again; From Satan'S Malice Shields My Breast, Or Overrules It For The Best. Forgive The Song That Falls So Low Beneath The Gratitude I Owe! It Means Thy Praise, However Poor; An Angel'S Song Can Do No More.