YE nations round the earth rejoice Before the Lord your sovereign King, Serve him with cheerful heart and voice, With all your tongues his glory sing.
The Lord is God: 'tis He alone,
Doth life, and breath, and being give: We are his work, and not our own : The sheep that on his pastures live.
Enter his gates with songs of joy,
With praises to his courts repair;
And make it your divine employ
To pay your thanks and honours there.
The Lord is good, the Lord is kind;
Great is his grace, his mercy sure; And the whole race of man shall find His truth from age to age endure.
Praise the Lord, all ye People.
SING to the Lord with joyful voice,
Let every land his name adore,
The British isles shall send the noise
Across the ocean to the shore.
Nations, attend before his throne
With solemn fear, with sacred joy :
Know that the Lord is God alone;
He can create and He destroy.
His sovereign power without our aid,
Made us of clay and formed us men:
And when like wandering sheep we strayed,
He brought us to his fold again.
We are his people, we his care,
Our souls, and all our mortal frame; What lasting honours shall we rear, Almighty Maker, to thy name?
We'll crowd thy gates with thankful songs,
High as the heavens our voices raise;
And earth, with her ten thousand tongues,
Shall fill thy courts with sounding praise.
Wide as the world is thy command
Vast as eternity thy love;
Firm as a rock thy truth must stand,
When rolling years shall cease to move.
To Thee shall all flesh come.
O THOU to whom in ancient time,
The lyre of Hebrew bards was strung,
Whom kings adored in songs sublime,
And prophets praised with glowing tongue,-
Not now on Zion's height alone
The favored worshipper may dwell,
Nor where, at sultry noon, thy Son
Sat weary by the patriarch's well.
From every place below the skies,
The grateful song, the fervent prayer,
The incense of the heart, may rise
To heaven, and find acceptance there.
To Thee shall age, with snowy hair,
And strength and beauty bend the knee,
And childhood lisp with reverent air,
Its praises and its prayers to Thee.
O Thou to whom in ancient time,
The lyre of prophet-bards was strung,
To Thee, at last, in every clime,
Shall temples rise and praise be sung.
Even from everlasting to everlasting thou art God.
RISE, rise, my soul, and leave the ground,
Stretch all thy thoughts abroad;
And rouse up every tuneful sound
To praise th' eternal God.
Long ere the lofty skies were spread,
Jehovah filled his throne;
Or Adam formed, or angels made,
The Maker lived alone.
His boundless years can ne'er decrease,
But still maintain their prime :
Eternity's his dwelling place,
And ever is his time.
While like a tide our minutes flow,
The present and the past,
He fills his own immortal Now,
And sees our ages waste.
The sea and sky must perish too,
And vast destruction come;
The creatures, look how old they grow,
And wait their fiery doom!
Well, let the sea shrink all away,
And flame melt down the skies: My God shall live an endless day, When th' old creation dies.
Thou art great, O Lord God.
MY God, my King, thy various praise
Shall fill the remnant of my days:
Thy grace employ my humble tongue,
Till death and glory raise my song.
The wings of every hour shall bear
Some thankful tribute to thine ear:
And every setting sun shall see
New works of duty done for Thee.
Thy truth and justice I'll proclaim;
Thy bounty flows, an endless stream;
Thy mercy swift, thine anger slow,
But dreadful to the stubborn foe.
Thy works with sov'reign glory shine,
And speak thy majesty divine;
Let Britain round her shores proclaim
The sound and honour of thy name.
Let distant times and nations raise
The long succession of thy praise;
And unborn ages make my song
The joy and labour of their tongue.
But who can speak thy wondrous deeds?
Thy greatness all our thoughts exceeds;
Vast and unsearchable thy ways,
Vast and immortal be thy praise.
|