Ye heav’ns send forth your song of praise!

earth, raise your voice below!

Let hills and mountains join the hymn,

and joy through nature flow.

Behold how gracious is our God!

hear the consoling strains,

In which he cheers our drooping hearts,

and mitigates our pains.

Cease ye, when days of darkness come,

in sad dismay to mourn,

As if the Lord could leave his saints

forsaken or forlorn.

Can the fond mother e’er forget

the infant whom she bore?

And can its plaintive cries be heard,

nor move compassion more?

She may forget: nature may fail

a parent’s heart to move;

But Sion on my heart shall dwell

in everlasting love.

Full in my sight, upon my hands

I have engraved her name:

My hands shall build her ruined walls,

and raise her broken frame.