I sing mighty pow’r of God,
That made the mountains rise,
That spread the flowing seas abroad,
And built the lofty skies.
I sing the goodness of the Lord
That filled the earth with food;
He formed the creatures with his word,
And then pronounced them good.
Lord! how thy wonders are displayed
Where’er I turn mine 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.—Isaac Watts
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