Sing to the Lord that built the skies,
The Lord that reared this stately frame;
Let all the nations sound his praise,
And lands unknown repeat his name.
He formed the seas, and formed the hills,
Made every drop, and every dust,
Nature and time, with all their wheels,
And pushed them into motion first.
Now from his high imperial throne
He looks far down upon the spheres;
He bids the shining orbs roll on,
And round he turns our hasty years.
Thus shall this moving engine last
Till all his saints are gathered in;
Then for the trumpet's dreadful blast,
To shake it all to dust again!
Yet, when the sound shall tear the skies,
And lightning burn the globe below,
Saints, you may lift your joyful eyes,
There's a new heav'n and earth for you.