The King of glory deigns to stoop,
And view His works beneath the skies;
To Him all nations are a drop,
The dust that in the balance lies.

The mountains at His pesence quake,
And burning coals before Him fly;
The floods retire, the cedars break,
And rocks and hills in ruins lie.

His judgments are a boundless deep,
Beyond the reach of human sense;
Unsearchable His works and ways,
Of nature and of providence.

The angel armies, hosts of men,
But execute His just decrees;
He kills and makes alive again,
Works when and where and as He please.

The Lord of lords, and king of kings,
Through endless ages still the same;
Let Heav’n and earth His glory sing,
And all His matchless deeds proclaim.