To Thee Whose Eye All Nature Owns

To Thee whose eye all na­ture owns

Who hurl­est dy­nasts from their thrones

And lift­est those of low es­tate

We sing

with her men con­se­crate!

Yea

Great and Good

Thee

Thee

we hail

Who shakes the strong

who shields the frail

Who had not shaped such souls as we

If ten­der mer­cy lacked in Thee!

Though times be when the mor­tal moan

Seems un­as­cend­ing to Thy throne

Though se­ers do not as yet ex­plain

Why suf­fer­ing sobs to Thee in vain;

We hold that Thy un­scant­ed scope

Affords a food for fi­nal hope

That mild-eyed Pre­sci­ence pon­ders nigh

Life’s loom

to lull it by-and-by.

Therefore we choir to high­est height

The lov­ing will

the kindl­y might

That ba­lanc­es the vast for weal

That purg­es us by wounds to heal.

The sys­temed suns the skies en­scroll

Obey Thee in their rhyth­mic roll

Ride ra­di­ant­ly at Thy com­mand

Are dar­kened by Thy mas­ter hand!

And these pale pant­ing mul­ti­tudes

Seen surg­ing here

their moils

their moods

All shall ful­fill their joy in Thee

In Thee abide eter­nal­ly!

Exultant ad­or­ation give

To Thee

through whom all liv­ing live

To Thee

in whom all dy­ing die

Whose means the end shall jus­ti­fy!