Scripture Verse

The Lord is in His holy temple: let all the earth keep silence before Him. Habakkuk 2:20


Isaac Watts (1674–1748)

Words: Is­aac Watts, Ho­ræ Ly­ri­cæ, Book 1, 1706. God’s do­min­ion and de­crees.

Music: Twen­ty-Fourth, in the Re­po­si­to­ry of Sac­red Mu­sic, Part Se­cond, by John Wy­eth (Har­ris­burg, Penn­syl­van­ia: 1813). At­trib­ut­ed to Am­zi or Lu­ci­us Cha­pin (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a good pic­ture of Am­zi or Lu­ci­us Cha­pin (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),


Keep silence, all created things,
And wait your Maker’s nod:
The muse stands trembling while she sings
The honors of her God.

Life, death, and hell, and worlds unknown
Hang on His firm decree;
He sits on no precarious throne,
Nor borrows leave to be.

Th’al­migh­ty Voice bid ancient night
Her endless realms resign,
And lo, ten thousand globes of light
In fields of azure shine.

Now wisdom with superior sway
Guides the vast moving frame,
Whilst all the ranks of being pay
Deep reverence to His name.

He spoke; the sun obedient stood,
And held the falling day:
Old Jordan backward drives his flood,
And disappoints the sea.

Lord of the armies of the sky,
He marshals all the stars;
Red comets lift their banners high,
And wide pro­claim His wars.

Chained to His throne, a volume lies,
With all the fates of men,
With every angel’s form and size,
Drawn by th’eter­nal pen.

His providence unfolds the book,
And makes His counsels shine;
Each opening leaf, and every stroke
Fulfills some deep design.

Here He exalts neglected worms
To scepters and a crown;
And on the following page He turns,
And treads the monarch down.

Not Gabriel asks the reason why,
Nor God the reason gives;
Nor dares the favorite angel pry
Between the folded leaves.

My God, I ne­ver longed to see
My fate with curious eyes,
What gloomy lines are writ for me,
Or what bright scenes may rise.

In Thy fair book of life and grace,
O may I find my name
Recorded in some humble place,
Beneath my Lord the Lamb.