My Soul, Thy Great Creator Praise
My soul, Thy great Cre-a-tor praise:
When clothed in His cel-es-tial rays
He in full maj-es-ty ap-pears,
And, like a robe, His glo-ry wears.
The heavens are for His cur-tains spread,
The un-fa-thomed deep He makes His bed;
Clouds are His char-iot, when He flies
On wing-ed storms a-cross the skies.
An-gels, whom His own breath in-spires,
His min-i-sters, are flam-ing fires;
And swift as thought their ar-mies move
To bear His ven-geance or His love.
The world's foun-da-tions by His hand
Are poised, and shall for-ev-er stand;
He binds the o-cean in His chain,
Lest it should drown the earth a-gain.
When earth was cov-ered with the flood,
Which high a-bove the moun-tains stood,
He thun-dered; and the o-cean fled,
Con-fined to its ap-point-ed bed.
The swell-ing bil-lows know their bound,
And in their chan-nels keep their round;
Yet thence con-veyed by se-cret veins,
They spring on hills and drench the plains.
From plea-sant trees which shade the brink,
The lark and lin-net light to drink;
Their songs the lark and lin-net raise,
And chide our sil-ence in His praise.
God, from His cloud-y cis-tern, pours
On the parched earth en-rich-ing showers;
The grove, the gar-den, and the field
A thou-sand joy-ful bles-sings yield.
He makes the gras-sy food a-rise,
And gives the cat-tle large sup-plies;
With herbs for man, of var-ious power,
To nour-ish na-ture, or to cure.
Be-hold the state-ly ce-dar stands,
Raised in the for-est by His hands;
Birds to the boughs for shel-ter fly,
And build their nests se-cure on high.
He sets the sun His circling race,
Ap-points the moon to change her face;
And when thick dark-ness veils the day,
Calls out wild beasts to hunt their prey.
Fierce li-ons lead their young a-broad,
And roar-ing ask their meat from God;
But when the morn-ing beams a-rise,
The sav-age beast to co-vert flies.
Then man to dai-ly lab-or goes;
The night was made for his re-pose:
Sleep is Thy gift; that sweet re-lief
From tire-some toil and wast-ing grief.
How strange Thy works! How great Thy skill!
And ev-ery land Thy rich-es fill:
Thy wis-dom round the world we see,
This spa-cious earth is full of Thee.
Nor less Thy glo-ries in the deep,
Where fish in mil-lions swim and creep,
With won-drous mo-tions, swift or slow,
Still wander-ing in the paths below.
Vast are Thy works, Al-might-y Lord,
All na-ture rests up-on Thy Word,
And the whole race of crea-tures stands,
Wait-ing their por-tion from Thy hands.
His works, the won-ders of His might,
Are hon-ored with His own de-light:
How match-less are His glo-rious ways!
The Lord is awe-some in His praise.
The earth stands trem-bling at Thy stroke,
And at Thy touch the moun-tains smoke;
Yet hum-ble souls may see Thy face,
And tell their wants to sov-ereign grace.
In Thee my hopes and wish-es meet,
And make my med-i-ta-tions sweet:
Thy prais-es shall my breath em-ploy,
Till it ex-pire in end-less joy.
While haught-y sin-ners die ac-curst,
Their glo-ry bur-ied with their dust,
I, to my God, my heaven-ly King,
Im-mor-tal hal-le-lu-jahs sing.