O could I speak the matchless worth,
O could I sound the glories forth which in my Savior shine!
I’d sing His glorious righteousness, and magnify the wondrous grace
Which made salvation mine, which made salvation mine.

I’d sing the precious blood He spilt,
My ransom from the dreadful guilt of sin, and wrath divine;
I’d sing His glorious righteousness, in which all perfect, heavenly dress
My soul shall ever shine, my soul shall ever shine.

I’d sing the characters He bears,
And all the forms of love He wears, exalted on His throne;
In loftiest songs of sweetest praise, I would to everlasting days
Make all His glories known, make all His glories known.

Soon, the delightful day will come
When my dear Lord will bring me home, and I shall see His face;
Then with my Savior, Brother, Friend, a blessèd eternity I’ll spend,
Triumphant in His grace, triumphant in His grace.

Oh could I speak the matchless worth,
Oh could I sound the glories forth,
Which in my Saviour shine!
I’d soar, and touch the heavenly strings
And vie with Gabriel while he sings
In notes almost divine.

O sing ye hallelujah! ’Tis good our God to praise.
’Tis pleasant and becoming to Him our songs to raise;
He builds the walls of Zion, He seeks her wandering sons;
He binds their wounds and comforts the brokenhearted ones.

The starry hosts He numbers, He calls them all by name;
His greatness and His wisdom His wondrous works proclaim;
The meek He lifts to honor, He humbles sinful pride.
Give thanks to Him and utter His praises far and wide.

The heav’ns with clouds He covers, He sends the cheering rain;
The slopes of all the mountains He fills with grass and grain;
To beast and bird His goodness their daily food supplies;
He cares for all His creatures, attentive to their cries.

No human power delights Him, no earthly pomp or pride;
He loves the meek who fear Him and in His love confide;
Then praise thy God, O Zion, His gracious aid confess;
He gives thee peace and plenty, His gifts thy children bless.

He sends His swift commandment, and snow and ice enfold
The world, and none are able to stand before His cold.
Again He gives commandment: The winds of summer blow,
The snow and ice are melted, again the waters flow.

His statues and His judgments He makes His people know;
To them as to no others His grace He loves to show;
For matchless grace and mercy your grateful praises bring;
To give Him thanks forever and hallelujah sing.

Praise ye the Lord, for it is good
To sing unto our God;
’Tis right and pleasant for His saints
To tell His praise abroad.
The Lord our God builds up His Church,
He seeks her wandering sons;
He binds their wounds and gently heals
The broken-hearted ones.

Our Lord is great, He calls by name
And counts the stars of night;
His wisdom is unsearchable,
And wondrous is His might.
The Lord upholds the poor and meek,
He brings the wicked low;
Sing praise to Him and give Him thanks
And all His goodness show.

No human might, no earthly pride
Delights the Lord above;
In them that fear Him He delights,
In them that trust His love.
O Zion, praise the Lord thy God,
His wondrous love confess;
He is thy glory and thy strength,
He will thy children bless.

Praise ye the Lord; ’tis good to raise
Our hearts and voices in His praise;
His nature and His works invite
To make this duty our delight.

The Lord builds up Jerusalem,
And gathers nations to His Name;
His mercy melts the stubborn soul,
And makes the broken spirit whole.

He formed the stars, those heav’nly flames;
He counts their numbers, calls their names;
His wisdom’s vast, and knows no bound,
A deep where all our thoughts are drowned.

Great is our Lord, and great His might;
And all His glories infinite:
He crowns the meek, rewards the just,
And treads the wicked to the dust.

Sing to the Lord, exalt Him high,
Who spreads His clouds all round the sky;
There He prepares the fruitful rain,
Nor lets the drops descend in vain.

He makes the grass the hills adorn,
And clothes the smiling fields with corn;
The beasts with food His hands supply,
And the young ravens when they cry.

What is the creature’s skill or force,
The sprightly man, the warlike horse,
The nimble wit, the active limb?
All are too mean delights for Him.

But saints are lovely in His sight,
He views His children with delight;
He sees their hope, He knows their fear,
And looks, and loves His image there.

With songs and honors sounding loud,
Address the Lord on high;
Over the heav’ns He spreads His cloud,
And waters veil the sky.

He sends His showers of blessing down
To cheer the plains below;
He makes the grass the mountains crown,
And corn in valleys grow.

He gives the grazing ox his meat,
He hears the raven’s cry;
But man, who tastes His finest wheat,
Should raise His honors high.

His steady counsels change the face
Of the declining year;
He bids the sun cut short his race,
And wintry days appear.

His hoary frost, His fleecy snow,
Descend and clothe the ground;
The liquid streams forbear to flow,
In icy fetters bound.

When from the dreadful stores on high
He pours the rattling hail,
The wretch that dares this God defy
Shall find his courage fail.

He sends His Word, and melts the snow,
The fields no longer mourn;
He calls the warmer gales to blow,
And bids the spring return.

The changing wind, the flying cloud,
Obey His mighty Word:
With songs and honors sounding loud,
Praise ye the sovereign Lord.

With gladness we worship, rejoice as we sing,
Free hearts and free voices, how blessèd to bring!
The old thankful story shall seek Thine abode,
Thou King of all glory, most bountiful God!

Renewed by Thy Spirit, redeemed by Thy Son,
Thy children would bless Thee for all Thou hast done:
O Father, returning to love and to light,
Our spirits are yearning to praise Thee aright.

Thy right would we give Thee, true homage Thy due,
And honor eternal, the universe through:
With all Thy creation, earth, heaven and sea,
In one acclamation we glorify Thee.

We join with the angels, and so there is giv’n,
From earth, Alleluia, in answer to Heav’n.
Amen! Be Thou glorious below and above,
Redeeming, victorious, and infinite Love!

Can you count the stars that brightly
Twinkle in the midnight sky?
Can you count the clouds, so lightly
O’er the meadows floating by?
God, the Lord, doth mark their number,
With His eyes that never slumber;
He hath made them every one,
He hath made them every one.

Can you count the wings now flashing
In the sunshine’s golden light?
Can you count the fishes splashing
In the cooling waters bright?
God, the Lord, a name hath given,
To all creatures under Heaven;
He hath named them every one,
He hath named them every one.

Do you know how many children
Rise each morning blithe and gay?
Can you count their jolly voices,
Singing sweetly day by day?
God hears all the happy voices,
In their merry songs rejoices;
And He loves them, every one
And He loves them, every one.

Do you know how many stars
There are shining in the sky?
Do you know how many clouds
Every day go floating by?
God, the Lord, their number knoweth,
For each one His care He showeth,
Of the bright and boundless host,
Of the bright and boundless host.

Do you know how many birdies
In the sunshine sing each day?
Do you know how many fishes
In the sparkling water play?
God, the Lord, who dwells in Heaven,
Name and life to each has given,
In His love they live and move,
In His love they live and move.

Do you know how many children
Go to little beds at night,
And without a care or sorrow
Wake again with morning light?
God in Heav’n each name can tell,
Know us, too, and loves us well,
He’s our best and dearest Friend,
He’s our best and dearest Friend.

Infinite God, to Thee we raise
Our hearts in solemn songs of praise,
By all Thy works on earth adored,
We worship Thee, the common Lord;
The everlasting Father own,
And bow our souls before Thy throne.

Thee all the choir of angels sings,
The Lord of hosts, the King of kings;
Cherubs proclaim Thy praise aloud,
And seraphs shout the Triune God;
And, “Holy, holy, holy,” cry,
“Thy glory fills both earth and sky!”

God of the patriarchal race,
The ancient seers record Thy praise,
The goodly apostolic band
In highest joy and glory stand;
And all the saints and prophets join
To extol Thy majesty divine.

Head of the martyrs’ noble host,
Of Thee they justly make their boast;
The church, to earth’s remotest bounds,
Her heavenly Founder’s praise resounds;
And strives, with those around the throne,
To hymn the mystic Three in One.

Father of endless majesty,
All might and love they render Thee;
Thy true and only Son adore,
The same in dignity and power;
And God the Holy Ghost declare,
The saints’ eternal Comforter.

O sing to the Lord, whose bountiful hand
Again doth accord His gifts to the land.
His clouds have shed down their plenteousness here,
His goodness shall crown the hopes of the year.

In clefts of the hills the founts He hath burst,
And poureth their rills through valleys athirst,
The river of God the pastures has blest,
The dry, withered sod in greenness is dressed.

And every fold shall team with its sheep,
With harvests of gold the fields shall be deep;
The vales shall rejoice with laughter and song,
And man’s grateful voice the music prolong.

So too may He pour, the Last and the First,
His graces in store on spirits athirst,
Till, when the great day of harvest hath come,
He takes us away to garner at home.

All beautiful the march of days, as seasons come and go;
The Hand that shaped the rose hath wrought the crystal of the snow;
Hath sent the hoary frost of Heav’n, the flowing waters sealed,
And laid a silent loveliness on hill and wood and field.

O’er white expanses sparkling pure the radiant morns unfold;
The solemn splendors of the night burn brighter than the cold;
Life mounts in every throbbing vein, love deepens round the hearth,
And clearer sounds the angel hymn, “Good will to men on earth.”

O Thou from Whose unfathomed law the year in beauty flows,
Thyself the vision passing by in crystal and in rose,
Day unto day doth utter speech, and night to night proclaim,
In ever changing words of light, the wonder of Thy Name.

’Tis winter now; the fallen snow
Has left the heav’ns all coldly clear;
Through leafless boughs the sharp winds blow,
And all the earth lies dead and drear.

And yet God’s love is not withdrawn;
His life within the keen air breathes;
His beauty paints the crimson dawn,
And clothes the boughs with glittering wreaths.

And though abroad the sharp winds blow,
And skies are chill, and frosts are keen,
Home closer draws her circle now,
And warmer glows her light within.

O God! Who giv’st the winter’s cold
As well as summer’s joyous rays,
Us warmly in Thy love enfold,
And keep us through life’s wintry days.