All na­ture’s works His praise de­clare,
To whom they all be­long;
There is a voice in ev­ery star,
In ev­ery breeze a song.
Sweet mu­sic fills the world abroad
With strains of love and pow­er;
The stor­my sea sings praise to God,
The thun­der and the show­er.

To God the tribes of ocean cry,
And birds up­on the wing;
To God the pow­ers that dwell on high
Their tune­ful trib­ute bring.
Like them, let us the throne sur­round,
With them loud cho­rus raise,
While in­stru­ments of lof­ti­er sound
Assist our fee­ble praise.

Great God, to Thee we con­se­crate
Our voic­es and our skill;
We bid the peal­ing or­gan wait
To speak alone Thy will.
O, teach its rich and swell­ing notes
To lift our souls on high;
And while the mu­sic round us floats,
Let earth born pas­sions die.