Ye Servants of th’Almighty King

Ye serv­ants of th’al­migh­ty King

In ev­ery age His prais­es sing;

Where’er the sun shall rise or set

The na­tions shall His praise re­peat.

Above the earth

be­yond the sky

Stands His high throne of ma­jes­ty;

Nor time nor place His pow­er re­strain

Nor bound His uni­vers­al reign.

Which of the sons of Ad­am dare

Or an­gels

with their God com­pare?

His glo­ries how di­vine­ly bright

Who dwells in un­cre­at­ed light!

Behold His love! He stoops to view

What saints ab­ove and an­gels do;

And con­des­cends yet more to know

The mean af­fairs of men be­low.

From dust and cot­tag­es ob­scure

His grace ex­alts the hum­ble poor;

Gives them the ho­nor of His sons

And fits them for their heav’n­ly thrones.

A word of His cre­at­ing voice

Can make the bar­ren house re­joice;

Though Sa­rah’s nine­ty years were past

The pro­mised seed is born at last.

With joy the mo­ther views her son

And tells the won­ders God has done:

Faith may grow strong when sense des­pairs

If na­ture fails

the pro­mise bears.