Great is the Lord, His pow­er is great,
My tongue His migh­ty acts re­late:
Adore and fear the so­ver­eign Lord,
Who rules all na­ture by His word.

He speaks—the ga­ther­ing clouds ob­ey;
Thick dark­ness veils the face of day;
Swift light­nings burst the pit­chy cloud,
And aw­ful thun­ders roar aloud.

Roused at His call the winds awake,
And from their wings des­truc­tion shake;
With groans the bend­ing woods re­sound,
And cast their hon­ors to the ground.

On mount­ing waves the sail­ors rise,
They seem to touch the ve­ry skies;
Instant they plunge with dread­ful hiss,
O’erwhelmed and lost in the abyss.

Well may poor mor­tals fear and quake,
His voice makes hills and mount­ains shake:
Far o’er the land the bil­lows dash,
And ci­ties fall with hi­deous crash.

He speaks—the winds their fu­ry cease,
The rag­ing waves are hushed to peace,
Nature her calm­est look puts on,
Well pleased the sud­den night is gone.

Great is the Lord, His pow­er is great,
My tongue His migh­ty acts re­late:
Adore and fear the so­ver­eign Lord,
Who rules all na­ture by His word.