God is a name my soul adores,
Th’al­migh­ty Three, th’eter­nal One;
Nature and grace, with all their pow­ers,
Confess the in­fin­ite un­known.

From Thy great self Thy be­ing springs;
Thou art Thine own orig­in­al,
Made up of un­cre­at­ed things,
And self-suf­fi­cient bears them all.

Thy voice pro­duced the sea and spheres,
Bade the waves roar, and plan­ets shine;
But no­thing like Thy­self app­ears
Through all these spa­cious works of Thine.

Still rest­less na­ture dies and grows;
From change to change the crea­tures run:
Thy being no suc­cess­ion knows,
And all Thy vast de­signs are one.

A glance of Thine runs through the globes,
Rules the bright worlds, and moves their frame;
Broad sheets of light com­pose Thy robes;
Thy guards are formed of liv­ing flame.

Thrones and do­min­ions round Thee fall,
And wor­ship in sub­miss­ive forms;
Thy pre­sence shakes this low­er ball,
This lit­tle dwell­ing place of worms.

How shall af­fright­ed mor­tals dare
To sing Thy glo­ry or Thy grace?
Beneath Thy feet we lie so far,
And see but sha­dows of Thy face!

Who can be­hold the blaz­ing light?
Who can ap­proach con­sum­ing flame?
None but Thy wis­dom knows Thy might
None but Thy Word can speak Thy name.