Scripture Verse

Day unto day utters speech, and night unto night shows knowledge. Psalm 19:2

Introduction

portrait
Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

Words: Is­aac Watts, Hymns and Spir­it­ual Songs, Book 2, 1709, num­ber 6.

Music: Pe­ter­bo­rough (Har­ris­on) Ralph Har­ris­on, 1786 (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a good pic­ture of Har­ris­on (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),

Hymnologist Charles S. Rob­in­son wrote about this text:

[I have] an au­to­graph let­ter of the exp­lor­er [Hen­ry Mor­ton] Stan­ley, prob­ab­ly ne­ver be­fore brought to light. It was writ­ten and sent in 1879 when he had just emerged from his ear­lie­st per­ils. This was be­fore he had grown in­to the vet­er­an he is now. But even then…he was just as hon­est­ly grate­ful to God as he has ev­er been since. These are his words:

That I es­caped from it I ac­know­ledge is due on­ly to the good­ness of God. He it was who res­cued me from the hor­rors which sur­round­ed us ma­ny months. He it was who sus­tained us in our bit­ter tri­als. To Him be all my gra­ti­tude. I ear­nest­ly hope that what I have been per­mit­ted to do will re­dound to the great glo­ry of his name, and that Af­ri­ca will send her mill­ions to the fold of Christ. It was a Dark Con­ti­nent, but the ris­ing day sa­lut­ed the brave man, and he re­turned the sal­ute like a knight and a sol­dier: Great God, let all my hours be Thine! Once more I trib­ute pay to Him that rules the skies!

Rob­in­son, p. 18

Lyrics

Once more, my soul, the ris­ing day
Salutes thy wak­ing eyes;
Once more, my voice, thy trib­ute pay
To Him that rules the skies.

Night un­to night His name re­peats,
The day re­news the sound,
Wide as the Heav’n on which He sits,
To turn the sea­sons round.

’Tis He sup­ports my mor­tal frame,
My tongue shall speak His praise;
My sins would rouse His wrath to flame,
And yet His wrath de­lays.

On a poor worm Thy powe­r might tread,
And I could ne’er with­stand;
Thy jus­tice might have crushed me dead,
But mer­cy held Thine hand.

A thou­sand wretch­ed souls are fled
Since the last set­ting sun,
And yet Thou length’n­est out my thread,
And yet my mo­ments run.

Dear God, let all my hours be Thine,
Whilst I en­joy the light;
Then shall my sun in smiles de­cline,
And bring a pleas­ing night.