1King of the world! I worship thee:

A contrite heart, a bended knee,

A choral song for sacrifice

The green-leaved earth, through joys and sighs

2The moon comes up to wake the dew,

The sun can take a rainbow hue,

The wave will lay its buoyance by,

Earth, through her flowers, salutes the sky;

3And I was born to see and say

From the fly, made to gild a day,

Even now I feel thy cherubim

Then, Silence, thou shalt be my hymn,

1Sweet day! so cool, so calm, so bright,

The dew shall weep thy fall to-night,

2Sweet rose! in air whose odors wave,

Thy root is ever in its grave,

3Sweet spring! of days and roses made,

Thy days depart, thy roses fade;

4Only a sweet and holy soul

While flowers decay, and seasons roll,

1To Thee, my God! to thee I bring

The evening's grateful offering;

From thee, the source of joy above,

Flow everlasting streams of love;

And all the rays of light that shine,

And bless creation, Lord! are thine.

2The morn, when stepping down the hills--

The noon, which all creation fills

With glory; evening's placid fall,

The twilight and the raven pall

Of midnight; all alike proclaim

Thy great, thine all impressive name.

3And from the little worm, whose light

Shines palely through the shades of night,

Up to the sparkling stars that run

Their evening rounds--or glorious sun,

Rolling his car to twilight's rest--

All, all in thee is bright and blest.

4And over all--above, below,

We see thee--ever-present thou!

In every wandering rill that flows,

In every gentle breeze that blows;

In every rising, setting sun,

We trace thee--own thee--holy One!

5Yes! in the mid-day's fervid beams,

And in the midnight's shadowy dreams,

In action and repose, we see,

We recognize and worship thee;

To thee our worthiest songs would give,

And in thee die, and to thee live.

1Blessed state! and happy he

Who is like that planted tree;

Living waters lave his root,

Bends his bough with golden fruit.

2When the seedling from its bed

First lifts up its timid head,

Ministry of thine must give.

All on which its life can live.

3Showers from thee must bid it thrive,

Breath of thine must oft revive;

Light from thee its bloom supplies,--

Left by thee it fades and dies.

4Thine, O Lord! the power and praise

Which a sight like this displays;

Power of thine must plant it there,

Praise of thee it should declare.

1Approach not the altar

Nor let thy feet falter,

God loves not the sadness

Oh serve him with gladness--

2His bounty is tender,

His smile fills with splendor,

Confiding, believing,

"His courts with thanksgiving--

3Nor come to the temple

But lowly and simple,

Bring meekly, before him,

Bow down and adore him,

1Our Father, when beside the tomb

Thy angels come amid the gloom,

And looking through the shades of death

How clearly then the eye of faith

2And they whose lives serenely even

Have never known the love of heaven,

For stricken by the hand of woe,

And they who weep can only know

3And one repentant hour of tears,

Is worth a thousand, thousand years

And O, if ever man below

'Tis when his soul, subdued by woe,

1When Power Divine, in mortal form,

Hushed with a word the raging storm,

In soothing accents Jesus said,

"Lo, it is I!--be not afraid."

2So, when in silence nature sleeps,

And his lone watch the mourner keeps,

One thought, shall every pang remove--

Trust, feeble man, thy Maker's love.

3Blessed be the voice that breathes from heaven,

To every heart in sunder riven,

When love, and joy, and hope are fled,

"Lo it is I!--be not afraid."

1As, when the deluge-waves were gone,

And nature's earliest rainbow shone

2Loosed from the ark, a heavenly dove,

Pledge of returning peace and love

3So when affliction's waters glide

More peaceful, pure, and sanctified,

4And then, as with the olive bough

Some gentle words of truth will flow,

5O'er all the transient things of time,

But all that's sacred and sublime

1In thy courts let peace be found,

There we tread on holy ground,

2While the knee in prayer is bent,

Tranquillize the turbulent!

3Be the place for worship meet,

Contemplation's best retreat,

4As an infant knows its home,

Thither for instruction come--

1Long be our fathers' temple ours,

A thousand spirits watch its bowers,

2And be their shield by us possessed;

The buttress of a holy breast,

1Though faint and sick, and worn away

My widowed feet are doomed to stray

2Be thou, O Lord, my Father still,

I know that perfect is thy will,

3I know the soul that trusts in thee

And though a bruisÉd reed I be,

4Then keep me, Lord, where'er I go,

Though, worn with poverty and woe,

5To give my weakness strength, O God,

And though thou chasten with thy rod,

1Where shall the child of sorrow find

Thou, Father of the fatherless,

2What friend have I in heaven or earth,

My father's dead--my mother's dead;

3Thy gracious promise now fulfil,

In thee the fatherless shall find

4I've not a secret care or pain,

Thou, Father of the fatherless,

1Come the rich and come the poor,

To the Christian temple door;

Let their mingled prayers ascend

To the universal Friend.

2Here the rich and poor may claim

Common ancestry and name;

Claim a common heritage,

In the gospel's promise page.

3Of the same materials wrought;

By the same instructor taught;

Walking in life's common way;

Tending to the same decay.

4Rich and poor at last shall meet

At the heavenly mercy seat;

Where the name of rich and poor

Never shall be uttered more.

1Oh, what a struggle wakes within,

The tempting, treacherous thoughts of sin,

2'Tis then, my Father! then I feel

Like a poor trembling child I steal

3Beneath thy shadow let me live!

I bend in trust--I pray! forgive

1"Let there be light!"--When from on high,

Forth leaped the sun; and earth and sky

2"Let there be light!"--The light of grace

Came with thy word, when on our race

3Light of our souls! how strong it grows:

As up the glorious sky he goes,

4Give us that light! O God, 'tis given!

To those who for the truth have striven;

5Churches no more, in cold eclipse,

It gilds their gates, and on the lips

1Fallen is thy throne, O Israel!--

Thy dwellings all lie desolate,--

Where are the dews that fed thee

That fire from heaven that led thee

2Lord, thou didst love Jerusalem!

Her love thy fairest heritage,

Till evil came and blighted

And Salem's shrines were lighted

3Then sunk the star of Solyma,

Like heath that in the wilderness

Silent and waste her bowers,

And sunk those guilty towers,

1Why on the bending willows hung,

Still mute remains thy sullen tongue,

2Awake! thy sweetest raptures raise;

Thy promised King his sceptre sways;

3No taunting foes the song require:

But friends provoke the silent lyre,

4Nor fear thy Salem's hills to wrong,

A heavenly city claims thy song;

5By foreign streams no longer roam;

In every clime behold a home,

1Hear what God the Lord hath spoken,

Comfortless, afflicted, broken,

Thorns of heart-felt tribulation

Ye shall name your walls, Salvation,

2"There, like streams that feed the garden,

For the Lord, your faith rewarding,

Still, in undisturbed possession,

Never shall you feel oppression,

3"Ye no more your suns descending,

But, your griefs forever ending,

God shall rise, and shining o'er you,

He, the Lord, shall be your glory,

1The triumphs of the martyred saints

The heart delights in song to dwell

Those whom the senseless world abhorred,

Deeming it worthless, for the sake

2For him they braved the tyrant's rage,

The wild beast's fang their bodies tore,

Like lambs before the sword they fell,

For patience kept the conscious mind

3What tongue can tell the crown prepared

His shining robe, his joys unknown,

Vouchsafe us, Lord, if such thy will.

If not, the martyr's cross to bear,

1Flung to the heedless winds,

Their ashes shall be watched,

And from that scattered dust,

Shall spring a plenteous seed

2The Father hath received

Yet vain is Satan's boast

Still, still, though dead, they speak,

To many a wakening land