Scripture Verse

The only true God. John 17:3

Introduction

portrait
William Gardiner (1770–1853)
British Museum
cc-license

Words: Ernst Lange, in Neu­es geist­reich­es Ge­sang­buch, by Jo­hann A. Frey­ling­hau­sen, 1714 (O Gott, du Tie­fe son­der Grund). Trans­lat­ed from Ger­man to English by John Wes­ley, 1737, cen­to.

Music: Ger­ma­ny, Sac­red Me­lo­dies, by Will­iam Gar­di­ner, 1815 (🔊 pdf nwc).

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

portrait
John Wesley (1703–1791)

The hymn passed in­to the Wes. H. Bk., 1780, in two parts, Nos. 231 and 232 (ed. 1875, Nos. 240, 241). In other hymn-books it has ap­peared in a var­i­ety of cen­tos…these are all from the text of the Wes. H. Bk., more or less al­tered and tran­sposed.

Julian, p. 638

Lyrics

Thou, true and only God, lead’st forth
Th’immortal armies of the sky;
Thou laugh’st to scorn the gods of earth,
Thou thunderest, and amazed they fly.

With downcast eye th’angelic choir
Appear before Thy awful face;
Trembling they strike the golden lyre,
And through Heav’n’s vault resound Thy praise,

In earth, in Hea­ven, in all Thou art;
The conscious creature feels Thy nod,
Whose forming hand on every part
Impressed the image of its God.

Thine, Lord, is wisdom, Thine alone;
Justice and truth before Thee stand;
Yet, nearer to Thy sacred throne,
Mercy withholds Thy lifted hand.

Each evening shows Thy tender love,
Each rising morn Thy plenteous grace
Thy wakened wrath doth slowly move,
Thy willing mercy flies apace.

To Thy benign indulgent care,
Father, this light, this breath we owe;
And all we have, and all we are,
From Thee, great source of being, flow.

Parent of good, Thy bounteous hand
Incessant blessings down distils,
And all in air, or sea, or land,
With plenteous food and gladness fills.

All things in Thee live, move, and are,
Thy power infused doth all sustain;
E’en those Thy daily favors share
Who thankless spurn Thy easy reign.

Thy sun Thou bidd’st his genial ray
Alike on all impartial pour;
To all, who hate or bless Thy sway,
Thou bidd’st descend the fruitful shower.

Yet, while at length who scorned Thy might
Shall feel Thee a consuming fire,
How sweet the joys, the crown how bright,
Of those who to Thy love aspire!

All creatures, praise th’eter­nal name!
Ye hosts that to His court belong,
Cherubic choirs, seraphic flames,
Awake the ev­er­last­ing song!

Thrice Holy! Thine the kingdom is,
The power omnipotent is Thine,
And when created nature dies,
Thy ne­ver-ceasing glories shine.