COME, O my soul, in sacred lays,

And sing thy great Creator’s praise:

But oh, what tongue can speak His fame?

What mortal verse can reach the theme?


Enthroned amid the radiant spheres,

He glory like a garment wears;

To form a robe of light divine,

Ten thousand suns around Him shine.


In all our Maker’s grand designs,

Omnipotence with wisdom shines;

His works, through all this wondrous frame,

Declare the glory of His name.


Raised on devotion’s lofty wing,

Do thou, my soul, His glories sing;

And let His praise employ thy tongue,

Till listening worlds shall join the song.


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