1 Sing to the Lord that built the skies,
The Lord that rear'd this stately frame;
Let all the nations sound his praise,
And lands unknown repeat his name.

2 He form'd the seas, and form'd the hills,
Made ev'ry drop, and ev'ry 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 ligh'tning burn the globe below,
Saints, you may lift your joyful eyes,
There's a new heav'n and earth for you.