God, in the high and holy place,

Looks down upon the spheres;

Yet in His providence and grace

To every eye appears.

He bows the heavens; the mountains stand,

A highway for our God;

He walks amidst the desert-sand,

'Tis Eden where He trod

The forests in His strength rejoice;

Hark! on the evening breeze,

As once of old, the Lord God's voice

Is heard among the trees.

Here, on the hills, He feeds His herds,

His flocks on yonder plains;

His praise is warbled by the birds,

O could we catch their strains!

Mount with the lark, and bear our song

Up to the gates of light;

Or, with the nightingale, prolong

Our numbers through the night!

In every stream His bounty flows,

Diffusing joy and wealth;

In every breeze His Spirit blows

The breath of life and health.

His blessings fall in plenteous showers

Upon the lap of earth,

That teems with foliage, fruits, and flowers,

And rings with infant mirth.

If God hath made this world so fair,

Where sin and death abound;

How beautiful, beyond compare,

Will Paradise be found!