1 To Thee whose eye all nature owns,
Who hurlest dynasts from their thrones
And liftest those of low estate
We sing, with her men consecrate!
2 Yea, Great and Good, Thee, Thee, we hail,
Who shakes the strong, who shields the frail,
Who had not shaped such souls as we
If tender mercy lacked in Thee!
3 Though times be when the mortal moan
Seems unascending to Thy throne,
Though seers do not as yet explain
Why suffering sobs to Thee in vain;
4 We hold that Thy unscanted scope
Affords a food for final hope,
That mild-eyed Prescience ponders nigh
Life’s loom, to lull it by-and-by.
5 Therefore we choir to highest height
The loving will, the kindly might
That balances the vast for weal,
That purges us by wounds to heal.
6 The systemed suns the skies enscroll
Obey Thee in their rhythmic roll,
Ride radiantly at Thy command,
Are darkened by Thy master hand!
7 And these pale panting multitudes
Seen surging here, their moils, their moods,
All shall fulfill their joy in Thee,
In Thee abide eternally!
8 Exultant adoration give
To Thee, through whom all living live,
To Thee, in whom all dying die,
Whose means the end shall justify!
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #16280