117. C. M. Watts. The Perfections of God.
1 How shall I praise th' eternal God,
That infinite Unknown?
Who can ascend his high abode,
Or venture near his throne?
2 Those watchful eyes that never sleep,
Survey the world around:
His wisdom is a boundless deep,
Where all our thoughts are drowned.
3 Speak we of strength, his arm is strong,
To save or to destroy:
To him eternal years belong,
And never-ending joy.
4 He knows no shadow of a change,
Nor alters his decrees;
Firm as a rock his truth remains,
To guard his promises.