1 Sing to the Lord that built the skies, The Lord that rear'd this stately frame; Let half the nations sound his praise, And lands unknown repeat his Name.
2 He form'd the seas, and form'd the hills, Made every drop and every dust, Nature and time with all their wheels, And push'd them into motion first.
3 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.
4 Thus shall this moving engine last Till all his saints are gather'd in, Then for the trumpet's dreadful blast To shake it all to dust again!
5 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 heaven and earth for you.