Scripture Verse

All the earth is Mine. Exodus 19:5


Thomas Gibbons (1720–1785)
National Portrait Gallery


Words: Tho­mas Gib­bons, Hymns Adapt­ed to Di­vine Wors­hip (Lon­don: J. Buck­land, J. John­son & J. Payne, 1769), Book 2, num­ber 69.

Music: Ab­er­deen pos­si­bly by An­drew Tait, in James Chal­mers’ un­ti­tled col­lect­ion, 1749. Me­lo­dy from Ru­di­ments of Mu­sic, by Ro­bert Brem­ner, 1756 (🔊 pdf nwc).


Great God, the na­tions of the earth
Are by cre­ation Thine;
And in Thy works, by all be­held,
Thine ob­vi­ous glo­ries shine.

In day and night, in sun and show­ers,
Thy ten­der care we trace;
And pro­vi­den­tial good­ness reigns
Thro’ all the hu­man race.

But, Lord, Thy great­er love has sent
Thy Gos­pel to man­kind,
Unveiling what rich stores of grace
Are trea­sured in Thy mind.

Through Christ, the ran­som of our souls,
With sin­ners Thou art pleased:
Thy flam­ing darts are laid aside,
Thy ven­geance is ap­peased.

A foun­tain, too, Thy mer­cy shows
To heal the plagues of sin;
The noi­some sores that taint the life,
And le­pro­sy with­in.

Does not Thy Word as­sure our souls
Of realms of bliss on high,
That ev­er­last­ing glo­ry waits
To crown us when we die?

Does not our faith see death dis­armed,
Our tri­umph o’er the tomb,
And dust and ash­es mount the skies,
Raised in im­mor­tal bloom?

Lord, when shall these glad tid­ings spread
The spa­cious earth around,
Till ev­ery tribe, and ev­ery soul
Shall hear the joy­ful sound?

O when shall Af­ric’s sa­ble sons
Enjoy the heav’n­ly Word,
And vas­sals long en­slaved be­come
The freed­men of the Lord?

When shall th’un­tu­tored In­di­an tribes,
A dark be­wil­dered race,
Sit down at our Ema­nu­el’s feet,
And learn and feel His grace?

Haste, so­ve­reign mer­cy, and trans­form
Their cru­el­ty to love;
Soften the ti­ger to a lamb,
The vul­ture to a dove!

Smile, Lord, on each di­vine at­tempt
To spread the Gos­pel’s rays,
And build on sin’s de­mo­lished throne
The tem­ples of Thy praise!

Send forth Thy Word, and let it fly
Armed with Thy Spi­rit’s pow­er,
And thou­sands shall con­fess its sway,
And bless the sav­ing hour.

Beneath the in­fluence its grace
The bar­ren wastes shall rise,
With sud­den greens and fruits ar­rayed,
A bloom­ing pa­ra­dise.

Father, is not Thy pro­mise pledged
To Thine ex­alt­ed Son
That thro’ the na­tions of the earth
Thy Word of Life shall run?

Ask, and I give the hea­then lands
For Thine in­he­ri­tance,
And to the world’s re­mot­est shores
Thine em­pire shall ad­vance.

Hast Thou not said, the blind­ed Jews
Shall their Re­deem­er own,
While Gen­tiles to His stand­ard crowd,
And bow be­fore His Throne?

Are not all king­doms, tribes, and tongues
Under th’ex­panse of Heav’n,
To the do­min­ion of Thy Son
Without ex­emp­tion giv’n?

From east to west, from north to south,
Then be His name adored!
Europe, with all thy mill­ions shout,
Hosannas to the Lord.

Asia and Af­ri­ca, re­sound
From shore to shore His fame;
And thou, Ame­ri­ca, in songs
Redeeming love pro­claim.

When Je­sus shall as­cend His throne,
The uni­ver­sal King,
What bound­less grace, what joys un­known
Shall His sal­va­tion bring?

True pie­ty shall strike its root
In each re­ge­ne­rate heart,
Shall in a growth di­vine arise,
And heav’n­ly fruits im­part,

Honor, de­pend­ence on our God,
With jus­tice, truth, and love
Their glo­ries thro’ our world shall spread,
As thro’ the world above.

Peace, with her ol­ives crowned, shall stretch,
Her wings from shore to shore:
No trump shall rouse the rage of war,
No mur­der­ous can­non roar.

Blessings in their bright­est forms
Shall thro’ the Earth abound;
With kind­ness shall each bo­som burn,
With joy each heart shall bound.

Lord, for these days we wait: these days
Are in Thy Word fore­told.
Fly swift­er, sun and stars, and bring
This pro­mised age of gold!

When Christ as­sumes His throne, this song
Shall thro’ the world re­sound:
See Je­sus, who on Cal­va­ry bled,
With end­less glo­ries crowned.

He in im­par­tial right­eous­ness
Shall judge the saints among,
Shall bow pro­pi­tious to the poor,
And vin­di­cate their wrong.

Princes and ma­gis­trates shall peace
And eq­ui­ty main­tain,
As hills and mount­ains down the vales
Diffuse th’en­rich­ing rain.

He shall re­lieve the sons of want
And break the ty­rant’s jaws;
Ages shall up­on ag­es roll
Crowned with His vast ap­plause.

As show­ers des­cend in sil­ver drops
On mea­dows new­ly mown,
So shall His sac­red Spi­rit send
His quick­en­ing in­flu­ence down.

The saints shall flour­ish in His days,
And peace, His dear de­light,
Shall fill the world, long as the moon
Adorns the reign of night.

From clime to clime, from sea to sea
His em­pire shall ex­tend,
From where Eu­phra­tes’ tor­rent rolls
To earth’s re­mot­est end.

Barbarians shall their fierce­ness lose,
And bow be­fore His seat,
And foes, that dared with­stand His pow­er,
Lie van­quished at His feet.

When Christ is throned on Zi­on’s hill,
The na­tions’ so­ve­reign king,
Princes from realms, from isles re­mote
Shall their ob­la­tions bring.

All mon­archs shall in hom­age bend
To His su­per­ior sway;
All peo­ple shall His sta­tutes learn,
And joy­ful­ly ob­ey.

The soul that cries to Him shall find
Salvation in dis­tress;
Of hope­less grief He hears the groan,
And flies to its re­dress.

Widows, and or­phans pined with woe,
His mer­cy will be­friend;
From ev­ery snare, and ev­ery foe
Their threat­ened lives de­fend.

To Him the choic­est stores of earth
In hon­or shall be giv’n,
And pray­ers and prais­es to His name,
Like in­cense breathe to Heav’n.

The seed, in scan­ty hand­fuls sown
Upon the mount­ain tops
Nourished by Heav’n’s en­liv­en­ing beams,
By Heav’n’s en­rich­ing drops,

Shall in an am­ple har­vest rise,
Shall ov­er­spread the ground,
Shall shake like Le­ba­non with woods
Of tow­er­ing ce­dar crowned.

The ci­ties, thro’ the world dis­persed,
By crowds of men pos­sessed,
Shall flour­ish like the bloom­ing meads
In spring’s em­broid­ery dressed.

Long as the sun shall rule the day
Mankind shall sound His fame:
In Him all na­tions shall be blest,
And all shall bless His name.

Immortal and un­bound­ed praise
Let Is­ra­el’s God re­ceive:
These mi­ra­cles of pow­er and grace
He on­ly could achieve.

Now let our Lord, as sum­mer suns,
Make haste the world to gild,
Shine all abroad till all our globe
Is with His glo­ries filled!

Amen, with joy di­vine let Earth’s
Unnumbered my­ri­ads cry;
, with joy di­vine let Heav’n’s
Unnumbered choirs re­ply!