Classic Poem

O SING the glories of our Lord ;
His grace and truth resound,
And His stupendous acts record,
Whose mercies have no bound!

He made the all-informing light
And hosts of Angels fair;
'Tis He with shadows clothes the night,
He clouds or clears the air.

Those restless skies with stars enchased
He on firm hinges set;
The wave-embraced earth He placed
His hanging cabinet.

We in His summer-sunshine stand,
And by His favour grow;
We gather what His bounteous hand
Is pleased to bestow.

When He contracts His brow, we mourn,
And all our strength is vain;
To former dust in death we turn,
Till He inspire again.