1 The Lord, how fearful is his name!
How wide is his command!
Nature, with all her moving frame,
Rests on his mighty hand.
2 Immortal glory forms his throne,
And light his awful robe;
Whilst, with a smile or with a frown,
He manages the globe.
3 Adoring angels round him fall,
In all their shining forms,
His Sov'reign eye looks thro' them all,
And pities mortal worms.
4 His bowels to our worthless race
In sweet compassion move;
He clothes his looks with softest grace,
And takes his title, love.
5 Now, let the Lord for ever reign,
And sway us as he will,
Sick, or in health, in ease, or pain
We are his fav'rites still.
6 No more shall peevish passion rise;
The tongue no more complain;
'Tis Sov'reign Love that lends our joys,
And love resumes again.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | The Lord, how fearful is his name! |
Meter: | C. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1814 |
Topic: | Divine Providence and Government |