That our holy hymn may be
Everlasting, as is He.
From the earth's vast hollow womb
Music's deepest bass shall come,
Sea and floods from shore to shore
Shall the counter-tenor roar.
To this concert, when we sing,
Whistling winds, your descant bring:
Which may bear the sound above
Where the orb of fire doth move;
And so climb from sphere to sphere,
Till our song th' Almighty hear.
So shall He from Heaven's high tower
On the earth His blessing shower;
All this huge wide orb we see
Shall one choir, one temple be;
There our voices we will rear
Till we fill it everywhere:
And enforce the fiends that dwell
In the air, to sink to hell.
Then, O come! with sacred lays,
Let us sound th' Almighty's praise.
G. Wither
HYMN OF PRAISE
HOLY, holy, holy Lord,
God of Hosts! When heaven and earth
Out of darkness, at Thy Word,
Issued into glorious birth,
All Thy works before Thee stood,
And Thine eye beheld them good,
While they sang with one accord,
Holy, holy, holy Lord!
Holy, holy, holy! Thee,
One Jehovah evermore,
Father, Son, and Spirit! we,
Dust and ashes, would adore:
Lightly by the world esteemed,
From that world by Thee redeemed,
Sing we here, with glad accord,
Holy, holy, holy Lord!
Holy, holy, holy! All
Heaven's triumphant choir shall sing, When the ransomed nations fall
At the footstool of their King:
Then shall saints and seraphim,
Hearts and voices, swell one hymn,
Round the throne with full accord,
Holy, holy, holy Lord!
YES, God is good: in earth and sky,
From ocean-depths and spreading wood,
Ten thousand voices seem to cry,
"God made us all, and God is good."
The sun that keeps his trackless way,
And downward pours his golden flood, Night's sparkling hosts, all seem to say, In accents clear, that God is good.
The merry birds prolong the strain,
Their song with every spring renewed;
And balmy air, and falling rain,
Each softly whisper, "God is good."
I hear it in the rushing breeze;
The hills that have for ages stood,
The echoing sky, and roaring seas,
All swell the chorus, "God is good."
Yes, God is good, all Nature says,
By God's own hand with speech endued; And man, in louder notes of praise,
Should sing for joy that "God is good."
For all Thy gifts we bless Thee, Lord,
But chiefly for our heavenly food,
Thy pardoning grace, Thy quickening word;
These prompt our song that "God is good.'
HE Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noonday walks He shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.
When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountains pant,
To fertile vales, and dewy meads,
My weary, wandering steps he leads,
Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow,
Amid the verdant landscape flow.
Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horror overspread,
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill;
For thou, O Lord, art with me still :
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.
Though in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my pains beguile;
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens, and herbage crowned,
And streams shall murmur all around.
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