An invocation to praise the Lord.
1 Ye works of God, on him alone,
In earth his footstool, heaven his throne,
Be all your praise bestowed;
Whose hand, the beauteous fabric made,
Whose eye, the finish'd work survey'd,
And saw that all was good.
2 Ye angels, who with loud acclaim,
Admiring view'd the new-born frame,
And hail'd th' eternal King ;
Again, proclaim your Maker's praise,
Again, your thankful voices raise,
And sacred anthems sing.
3 Ye sons of men, his praise display,
Who stamp'd his image on your clay,
And gave it power to move;
Where'er ye go, where'er ye dwell,
From age to age successive tell,
The wonders of his love.
4 Ye spirits of the just and good,
Who, eager for the bless'd abode,
To heav'nly mansions soar:
O let your songs his praise display,
Till heav'n itself shall melt away,
And time shall be no more.
5 Praise him, ye meek and humble train, Who shall those heavenly joys obtain,
Prepar'd for souls sincere ;
O praise him, till ye take your way
To regions of eternal day,
And reign for ever there.
God exalted above our highest praise.
1 Eternal power! whose high abode
Becomes the grandeur of a God;
Infinite length, beyond the bounds,
Where stars revolve their little rounds;
2 The lowest step beneath thy seat,
Rises too high for Gabriel's feet;
The awe-struck angel veils his sight,
Nor dares to tempt the wond'rous height.
3 Lord, what shall earth and ashes do?
We would adore our Maker too:
From sin and dust to thee we cry,
The Great, the Holy, and the High!
4 Earth from afar hath heard thy fame,
And worms have learn'd to lisp thy name;
But O, the glories of thy mind,
Leave all our soaring thoughts behind.
5 God is in heaven, and men below;
Be short our tunes; our words be few;
A sacred rev'rence checks our songs,
And praise sits silent on our tongues.
1 Great God! in vain man's narrow view Attempts to look thy nature through; Our lab'ring powers with rev'rence own Thy glories never can be known.
2 Not the high seraph's mighty thought, Who countless years his God has sought, Such wondrous height or depth can find, Or fully trace thy boundless mind.
3 Yet, Lord! thy kindness deigns to show Enough for mortal man to know;
While wisdom, goodness, power divine,
Through all thy works and conduct shine.
4 O may our souls with rapture trace
Thy works of nature and of grace;
Explore thy sacred name, and still
Press on to know and do thy will.
1 Can creatures to perfection find
Th' eternal, uncreated mind?
Or, can the largest stretch of thought
Measure and search his nature out?
2 "Tis high as heaven, 'tis deep as hell;
And what can mortals know or tell?
His glory spreads beyond the sky,
And all the shining worlds on high.
3 He frowns, and darkness veils the moon;
The fainting sun grows dim at noon;
The pillars of heaven's starry roof
Tremble and start at his reproof.
4 These are a portion of his ways!
But who shall utter all his praise?
Who can endure his light, or stand
To hear the thunders of his hand?
HYMN XXXIX. L. M.
Faith in the invisible God,
1 Eternal and immortal King!
Thy peerless splendors none can bear;
But darkness veils seraphic eyes,
When God with all his glory 's there.
2 Yet faith can pierce the awful gloom,
The great Invisible can see;
And with its tremblings mingle joy,
In fix'd regards, great God! on thee.
3 Then every tempting form of sin,
Aw'd by thy presence, disappears;
And all the glowing, raptur'd soul
The likeness it contemplates wears.
4 This one petition would it urge-
To bear thee ever in its sight;
In life, in death, in worlds unknown,
Its only portion and delight!
HYMN XL. L. M.
The greatness of God.
1 Ye weak inhabitants of clay,
Ye glittering insects of a day,
Low in your native dust bow down
Before th' Eternal's awful throne.
2 Let Lebanon its cedars bring,
To blaze before the sov'reign King
And all the beasts that on it feed,
As victims at his altar bleed;
3 Loud let ten thousand trumpets sound,
And call remotest nations round;
Assembled on the crowded plains,
Princes and people, kings and swains.
4 Join'd with the living, let the dead, Rising, the face of earth o'erspread; And, while his praise unites their tongues, Let angels echo back the songs.
5 The drop that from the bucket falls, The dust that hangs upon the scales, Is more to sky and earth and sea,
Than all this pomp, great God! to thee.
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