Church Hymn Book ‎#P.CIV

P.CIV. My soul, thy great Creator praise

1 My soul, thy great Creator praise;
When cloth'd in his celestial rays,
He in full majesty appears,
And like a robe his glory wears.

2 The heav’ns are for his curtains spread;
The unfathomed deep he makes his bed.
Clouds are his chariot when he flies
On winged storms across the skies.

3 Angels, whom his own breath inspires,
His ministers, are flaming fires;
And swift as thought their armies move
To bear his vengeance or his love.

4 The world’s foundation by his hand
Is pois'd, and shall for ever stand;
He binds the ocean in his chain,
Lest it should drown the earth again.

5 When earth was cover'd by the flood,
Which high above the mountains stood,
He thunder'd, and the ocean fled,
Confin'd to its appointed bed.

6 The swelling billows know their bound,
And in their channels walk their round;
Yet thence convey'd by secret veins,
They spring on hills, and drench the plains.

7 He bids the crystal fountains flow,
And cheers the valleys as they go;
There gentle herds their thirst allay,
And for the stream wild asses bray.

8 From pleasant trees which shade the brink,
The lark and linnet light to drink;
Their songs the lark and linnet raise,
And chide our silence in his praise.

9 God from his cloudy cistern pours
On the parch'd earth enriching show'rs;
The grove, the garden, and the field,
A thousand joyful blessings yield.

10 He makes the grassy food arise,
And gives the cattle large supplies;
With herbs for man of various pow'r,
To nourish nature, or to cure.

11 What noble fruit the vines produce!
The olive yields in shining juice;
Our hearts are cheer'd with gen'rous wine,
His gifts proclaim his love divine..

12 His bounteous hands our table spread,
He fills our cheerful stores with bread;
While food our vital strength imparts,
Let daily praise inspire our hearts.

13 Behold the stately cedar stands
Rais'd in the forest by his hands:
Birds to the boughs for shelter fly,
And build their nests secure on high.

14 To craggy hills, ascends the goat;
And at the airy mountain’s foot
The feebler creatures make their cell;
He gives them wisdom where to dwell.

15 He sets the sun his circling race,
Appoints the moon to change her face;
And when thick darkness veils the day,
Calls out wild beasts to hunt their prey.

16 Fierce lions lead their young abroad,
And roaring ask their meat from God;
But when the morning beams arise,
The savage beasts to coverts flies.

17 Then man to daily labour goes;
The night was made for his repose:
Sleep is thy gift, that sweet relief
From tiresome toil and wasting grief.

18 How strange thy works! How great thy skill!
And ev'ry land thy riches fill:
Thy wisdom round the world we see,
This spacious earth is full of thee.

19 Nor less thy glories in the deep,
Where fish in millions swim and creep,
With wond'rous motions swift or slow,
Still wand'ring in the paths below.

20 There ships divide their wat'ry way,
And flocks of scaly monsters play;
The huge leviathan resides,
And fearless sports amid the tides.

21 Vast are thy works, almighty Lord,
All nature rests upon thy word,
And the whole race of creatures stands,
Waiting their portion from thy hands.

22 While each receives his diff'rent food,
Their cheerful looks pronounce it good;
Eagles and bears, and whales and worms
Rejoice and praise in diff'rent forms.

23 But when thy face is hid they mourn,
And dying to their dust return;
Both man and beast their souls resign;
Life, breath and spirit, all are thine.

24 Yet thou canst breathe on dust again,
And fill the world with beasts and men;
A word of thy creating breath
Repairs the wastes of time and death.

25 His works, the wonders of his might,
Are honour'd with his own delight:
How awful are his glorious ways!
The Lord is dreadful in his praise.

26 The earth stands trembling at thy stroke,
And at thy touch the mountains smoke;
Yet humble souls may see thy face,
And tell their wants to sov'reign grace.

27 In thee my hopes and wishes meet,
And make my meditations sweet:
Thy praises shall my breath employ
Till it expire in endless joy.

28 While haughty sinners die accurst,
Their glory buri'd with their dust,
I to my God my heav'nly King,
Immortal hallelujahs sing.

Text Information

• First Line: My soul, thy great Creator praise
• Meter: L. M.
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1816
• Scripture:
  Psalm 104
• Topic: The Glory of God In Creation and Providence

Tune Information

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