|
|
| |
|
Thy mighty working, mighty God!
Wakes all my powers; I look abroad,
And can no longer rest;
I, too, must sing when all things sing,
And from my heart the praises ring
The Highest loveth best.
If thou, in thy great love to us,
Wilt scatter joy and beauty thus
O'er this poor earth of ours;
What nobler glories shall be given
Hereafter in thy shining heaven,
Set round with golden towers!
What thrilling joy, when on our sight
Christ’s garden beams in cloudless light
Where all the air is sweet;
Still laden with the unwearied hymn
From all the thousand seraphim
Who God‘s high praise repeat!
Oh, were I there! oh that I now
Before thy throne, my God, could bow,
And bear my heavenly palm!
Then, like the angels, would I raise
My voice, and sing thine endless praise
In many a sweet-toned psalm.
|
marker 99
|
LYRICS
|
Meter:
|
8 8 6 8 8 6
|
|
Writer(s):
|
|
|
Trans/Adapted:
|
| |
Dates:
|
|
|
Bible Refs:
|
|
LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
|
Hymn/Song Book
|
Year
|
Song #
|
| 1866 | # 1154 |
MUSIC
|
Name:
|
ARIEL
|
|
Meter:
|
8 8 6 8 8 6 6
|
|
Writer(s):
|
|
|
Dates:
|
1836
|
LIST OF MUSIC SOURCES
|
Hymn/Song Book
|
Song #
|
Key
|
| # 146 | D | | # 110 | Db | | # 7 | Db | | # 205 | Eb | | # 139 | Eb | | # 356 | Eb | | # 37 | Eb |
echo ' | ';
|