Song of Praise in Celebration of the Omniscience and
Omnipresence, the Almighty Power and the Infinite Wisdom Of
God.
LORD, thou hast searched my heart and ways,
And known me from my earliest days;
My rising up and lying down,
Yea, all my thoughts to thee are known.
Whether I rest or walk abroad,
Thou art around me, O my God;
And thou beholdest all my path,
From childhood till my day of death.
There’s not a thought within my breast,
But, ere it is in words expressed,
Thou knowest it entirely, long
Before it has escaped my tongue.
In every place and every hour
I stand encompassed by thy power,
And thine outstretched, almighty hand
Is o’er me both by sea and land.
Amazing knowledge! how can I
Conceive its vast infinity?
It far exceeds the highest reach
Of human thought and human speech!
Lord, whither could I hope to run,
Thy all-pervading spirit to shun?
Or whither from thy presence flee?
To heaven or hell, or land or sea?
If I ascend the heavenly height,
Lord, thou art there in glory bright!
If, with the children of despair,
I sleep in hell, Lord, thou art there!
If on the morning’s wings I flee
And dwell beyond the farthest sea,
There thou should’st lead me, and thy hand
Uphold me in the distant land!
Or, if I say, “Let darkness be
My covering, O my God, from thee;”
Then shall the darkest shades of night
Shine all around me as the light.
Yea, darkness, Lord, can ne’er disguise
From thine all-penetrating eyes;
To thee the darkness shines as bright,
As the clear sun’s meridian light.
My mind, that secret work of thine,
Proclaims thy hidden power divine:
That power inspired my senseless clay,
When in my mother’s womb I lay.
O God, my maker, how divine
Is this amazing frame of mine!
My soul shall gratefully record
The work of wonder, mighty Lord.
Deep and unseen my substance lay
A shapeless mass of lifeless clay:
Thy wisdom drew the wondrous plan
And formed the likeness of a man.
Thine eyes my unfinished form beheld;
Thy power its various parts revealed,
Each in the form ordained by thee
And modelled from eternity.
How can I reckon or record
Thy thoughts of love to me, O Lord!
If I should count them, they are more
Than grains of sand upon the shore.
O endless were the long account,
And infinite the vast amount!
For daily I should still record
New thoughts of mercy, gracious Lord!
God will assuredly destroy
The wicked, who his power defy
And scorn his grace. Hence from me then
Ye wicked and ye bloody men!
For wicked men for ends profane
Take God’s all-glorious name in vain;
Yea, with the tongues which thou hast given
They speak against thee, God of heaven!
My soul regards with grief and pain
And hatred all such wicked men!
Yea, I count those my enemies
Who hate the Lord, and scorn his grace.
Search me, O God, and know my heart!
O search my spirit’s inmost part!
Cleanse me from all iniquity!
Lead me to life, to heaven, to thee!
(John Dunmore Lang)
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