Sunday Hymn: I Sing the Mighty Power of God

I sing the migh­ty pow­er of God,
[or I sing th’al­migh­ty pow­er of God…]
That made the moun­tains rise,
That spread the flow­ing seas abroad,
And built the lof­ty skies.
I sing the wis­dom that or­dained
The sun to rule the day;
The moon shines full at His com­mand,
And all the stars ob­ey.

I sing the good­ness of the Lord,
That filled the earth with food:
Who formed the crea­tures with His Word,
And then pro­nounced them good.
Lord, how Thy won­ders are dis­played,
Where’er I turn my eye,
If I sur­vey the ground I tread,
Or gaze up­on the sky!

There’s not a plant or flow­er be­low,
But makes Thy glo­ries known;
And clouds arise, and tem­pests blow,
By or­der from Thy throne;
Creatures—as nu­mer­ous as they be—
Are sub­ject to Thy care;
There’s not a place where we can flee,
But God is pre­sent there.

In Heaven He shines with beams of love,
With wrath in hell be­neath:
’Tis on His earth I stand or move,
And ’tis His air I breathe.
His hand is my per­pe­tu­al guard,
He keeps me with His eye:
Why should I then for­get the Lord,
Who is for ev­er nigh?

—Isaac Watts

Sunday Hymn: Once in Royal David's City

Once in roy­al Dav­id’s ci­ty
Stood a low­ly cat­tle shed,
Where a mo­ther laid her ba­by
In a man­ger for His bed:
Mary was that mo­ther mild,
Jesus Christ her lit­tle child.

He came down to earth from Heav­en,
Who is God and Lord of all,
And His shel­ter was a sta­ble,
And His cra­dle was a stall;
With the poor, and mean, and low­ly,
Lived on earth our Sav­ior ho­ly.

And our eyes at last shall see Him,
Through His own re­deem­ing love,
For that Child so dear and gen­tle
Is our Lord in Heav’n above,
And He leads His child­ren on
To the place where He is gone.

Not in that poor low­ly sta­ble,
With the ox­en stand­ing by,
We shall see Him; but in Heav­en,
Set at God’s right hand on high;
Where like stars His child­ren crowned
All in white shall wait around.

—Ce­cil F. Al­ex­an­der

Sunday Hymn: Of the Father's Love Begotten

Of the Father’s love begotten,
Ere the worlds began to be,
He is Alpha and Omega,
He the source, the ending He,
Of the things that are, that have been,
And that future years shall see,
Evermore and evermore!

He is here, whom seers in old time
Chanted of, while ages ran;
Whom the writings of the prophets
Promised since the world began;
Then foretold, now manifested,
To receive the praise of man,
Evermore and evermore!

O that ever-blessèd birthday,
When the virgin, full of grace,
Of the Holy Ghost incarnate
Bare the Savior of our race;
And that Child, the world’s Redeemer,
First displayed His sacred face,
Evermore and evermore!

Praise Him, O ye Heav’n of Heavens!
Praise Him, angels in the height!
Every power and every virtue
Sing praise of God aright;
Let no tongue of man be silent,
Let each heart and voice unite,
Evermore and evermore!

Thee let age, and Thee let Manhood,
Thee let choirs of infants sing;
Thee the matrons and the virgins,
With glad voices answering:
And the children answering;
Let their modest song re-echo,
And their heart its praises bring,
Evermore and evermore!

Laud and honor to the Father,
Laud and honor to the Son!
Laud and honor to the Spirit!
Ever Three, and ever One;
Consubstantial, co-eternal,
While unending ages run,
Evermore and evermore!

—Au­re­li­us Pru­den­ti­us