Almighty Framer of the Skies

Almighty fram­er of the skies!

O let our pure de­vo­tion rise

Like in­cense in Thy sight!

Wrapped in im­pe­ne­tra­ble shade

The tex­ture of our souls was made

Till Thy com­mand gave light.

The Sun of glo­ry gleamed the ray

Refined the dark­ness in­to day

And bid the va­pors fly:

Impelled by His eter­nal love

He left His pal­ac­es ab­ove

To cheer our gloomy sky.

How shall we ce­le­brate the day

When God ap­peared in mor­tal clay

The mark of world­ly scorn;

When the arch­an­gel’s heav­en­ly lays

Attempted the Re­deem­er’s praise

And hailed sal­va­tion’s morn?

A hum­ble form the God­head wore

The pains of po­ver­ty He bore

To gau­dy pomp un­known:

Though in a hum­ble walk He trod

Still was the man Al­migh­ty God

In glo­ry all His own.

Despised

op­pressed

the God­head bears

The tor­ments of this vale of tears

Nor bids His ven­geance rise;

He saw the crea­tures He had made

Revile His pow­er

His peace in­vade;

He saw with mer­cy’s eyes.

How shall we ce­le­brate His name

Who groaned be­neath a life of shame

In all af­flict­ions tried?

The soul is rap­tured to con­ceive

A truth which be­ing must be­lieve:

The God eter­nal died.

My soul

ex­ert thy pow­ers

ad­ore

Upon de­vo­tion’s plum­age soar

To ce­le­brate the day:

The God from whom cre­ation sprung

Shall ani­mate my grate­ful tongue;

From Him I’ll catch the lay!