O Worship The King
O worship the King
All glorious above;
O gratefully sing
His power and his love:
Our Shield and Defender,
The Ancient of days,
Pavilioned in splendour,
And girded with praise.
O tell of his might,
O sing of his grace,
Whose robe is the light,
Whose canopy space.
His chariots of wrath
The deep thunder-clouds form,
And dark is his path
On the wings of the storm.
This earth, with its store
Of wonders untold,
Almighty, thy power
Hath founded of old:
Hath stablished it fast
By a changeless decree,
And round it hath cast,
Like a mantle, the sea.
Thy bountiful care
What tongue can recite?
It breathes in the air,
It shines in the light;
It streams from the hills,
It descends to the plain,
And sweetly distils
In the dew and the rain.
Frail children of dust,
And feeble as frail,
In thee do we trust,
Nor find thee to fail;
Thy mercies how tender!
How firm to the end!
Our Maker, Defender,
Redeemer, and Friend.
O measureless Might,
Ineffable Love,
While angels delight
To hymn thee above,
Thy humbler creation,
Though feeble their lays,
With true adoration
Shall sing to thy praise.
All glorious above;
O gratefully sing
His power and his love:
Our Shield and Defender,
The Ancient of days,
Pavilioned in splendour,
And girded with praise.
O tell of his might,
O sing of his grace,
Whose robe is the light,
Whose canopy space.
His chariots of wrath
The deep thunder-clouds form,
And dark is his path
On the wings of the storm.
This earth, with its store
Of wonders untold,
Almighty, thy power
Hath founded of old:
Hath stablished it fast
By a changeless decree,
And round it hath cast,
Like a mantle, the sea.
Thy bountiful care
What tongue can recite?
It breathes in the air,
It shines in the light;
It streams from the hills,
It descends to the plain,
And sweetly distils
In the dew and the rain.
Frail children of dust,
And feeble as frail,
In thee do we trust,
Nor find thee to fail;
Thy mercies how tender!
How firm to the end!
Our Maker, Defender,
Redeemer, and Friend.
O measureless Might,
Ineffable Love,
While angels delight
To hymn thee above,
Thy humbler creation,
Though feeble their lays,
With true adoration
Shall sing to thy praise.
I love this old hymn. It makes me happy when I sing it. It brings joy to my heart. We are committing it to memory in our homeschool so I use every excuse to bellow out the different verses. It echoes through the car, it slips from its position in the kitchen window and falls in the dishwater, it covers the fridge and runs across the whiteboard like water down hill. I love it, did I mention that?
My mother loved the old hymns. She sang them so often that we all learned them when we were still too young to read. And we were blessed to catch a glimpse of the raw beauty of her relationship with her God, open, consuming.
This hymn and many like it, are sunshine on the cloudiest of days, a dose of medicine for a winter worn heart.
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| Spring will come. The plants know... |
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| So does my son's tree frog. |
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| He basks in the lovely warmth of the sun whenever he gets a chance. |
I can wait for spring. It will come soon enough. I am perusing seed catalogs, washing curtains, listening to crows stirring up the quiet of morning walks. And the sun...that glorious sun. It warms my outside as I stand by the patio door, while good hymns, quiet times with the Lord, and the encouragement of good friends warms my inside. And face it...Spring is a lot closer than it was in December!
