Come, O my soul, in sacred lays

Come, O my soul, in sacred lays,
Attempt thy great Creator's praise;
But O what tongue can speak his fame!
What mortal verse declare his name!

Enthroned amid the radiant spheres,
He glory like a garment wears;
To form a robe of light divine,
Ten thousand suns around him shine.

In all our Maker's grand designs,
Omnipotence with wisdom shines;
His works, through all this wondrous frame,
Declare the glory of his name.

Raised on devotion's lofty wing,
Do thou, my soul, his glories sing;
And let his praise employ thy tongue
Till listening worlds shall join the song.