Contemplating the Divine Power

On Lebanon's fair tow'ring head, Where the tall Cedars grow, May his great Name exalted stand, Who lays their Forests low.

Praise ye the Lord in lofty strains! Ye Cedars tall record His Name who spread your waving tops; Praise ye th' Almighty Lord!

The storms and tempests that are sent At his supreme command, Will cause your heads to bow quite low, Tho' you deep-rooted stand.

Our God is terrible in arms! How bright his Glories rise! He rolls and rules the spacious earth, And thro' the vaulted skies.

Ye sinners, who his Grace contemn, Exalted high with pride, Yield to the Lamb that once was slain, Who for our sins hath dy'd.

His justice will avenge his wrongs, Altho' it long delay: He can bring down the lofty Pines, And low the Cedars lay.

Oh! may we to his stroke submit, For he is yet our friend; Tho' we were strong as sturdy Oaks, We must like Willows bend:

For he that lays the Mountains low, And bids the Vallies rise, Can lift the wond'ring Soul to heav'n, Or sink it with surprise:

And if we up to heav'n are rais'd, The Glory who can tell? Or sunk to Misery beneath, Who knows the depths of Hell?

Come then with me, and learn to praise That pow'r which long forbears, But will, in honor to his Name, Accomplish what he swears.