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1 Not to ourselves, who are but dust,
Not to ourselves is glory due,
Eternal God, thou only just,
Thou only gracious, wise, and true.
2 Shine forth in all thy dreadful name;
Why should a heathen's haughty tongue
Insult us, and to raise our shame,
Say, 'Where's the God you've served so long?'
3 The God we serve maintains his throne
Above the clouds, beyond the skies;
Thro' all the earth his will is done,
He knows our groans, he hears our cries.
4 But the vain idols they adore,
Are senseless shapes of stone and wood;
At best a mass of glitt'ring ore,
A silver saint, or golden god.
5 [With eyes and ears they carve their head;
Deaf are their ears, their eyes are blind;
In vain are costly off'rings made,
And vows are scatter'd in the wind.
6 Their feet were never made to move,
Nor hands to save when mortals pray;
Mortals that pay them fear or love,
Seem to be blind and deaf as they.]
7 O Isr'el, make the Lord thy hope,
Thy help, thy refuge, and thy rest;
The Lord shall build thy ruins up,
And bless the people and the priest.
8 The dead no more can speak thy praise,
They dwell in silence and the grave;
But we shall live to sing thy grace,
And tell the world thy pow'r to save.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Not to ourselves, who are but dust |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1790 |
Scripture: | |
Notes: | Now Public Domain. First Metre |