O worship the King, all glorious above,
O gratefully sing His wonderful love;
Our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of Days,
pavilioned in splendor and girded with praise.
O tell of His might, O sing of His grace,
whose robe is the light, whose canopy space.
His chariot of wrath the deep thunder-clouds form,
and dark is His path on the wings of the storm.
Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail,
in You do we trust, nor find You to fail;
Your mercies how tender, how firm to the end,
our Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
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