Soon as the morn salutes your eyes,

And from sweet sleep refresh'd you rise,

Think on the Author of the light,

And praise him for that glorious sight;

His mercy infinite implore,

His goodness infinite adore.

At noon, of what you then partake,

An off'ring of tranksgiving[sic] make;

Nor of the creatures for your use,

Be too luxuriously profuse;

For temp'rance, when with prudence join'd,

Brings health of body, peace of mind.

Take not at night the least repose,

E'er you to heav'n your soul disclose,

Consider how you've spent the day,

And for divine protection pray;

For you no blessing can expect,

If you to ask it do neglect.