O Lord, our heav­en­ly king,
Thy name is all di­vine;
Thy glo­ries round the earth are spread,
And o’er the heav’ns they shine.

When to Thy works on high
I raise my won­der­ing eyes,
I see the moon, com­plete in light,
Adorn the dark­some skies.

When I sur­vey the stars,
And all their shin­ing forms,
Lord, what is man, that worth­less thing,
Akin to dust and worms?

Lord, what is worth­less man,
That Thou shouldst love him so?
Next to Thine an­gels he is placed,
And lord of all be­low.

Thine hono­rs crown his head,
While beasts, like slaves, ob­ey;
And birds that cut the air with wings,
And fish that cleave the sea.

How rich Thy boun­ties are!
And won­drous are Thy ways;
Of dust and worms Thy pow­er can frame
A mon­ument of praise.

Out of the mouths of babes
And suck­lings Thou canst draw
Surprising hon­ors to Thy name
And strike the world with awe.

O Lord, our heav’n­ly king,
Thy name is all di­vine;
Thy glo­ries round the earth are spread,
And o’er the heav’ns they shine.