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Poem	O Lord, our Lord, how wondrous great Is thine exalted name! The glories of thy heav'nly state Let men and babes proclaim. When I behold thy works on high The moon that rules the night, And stars that well adorn the sky, Those moving worlds of light. Lord, what is man, or all his race, Who dwells so far below, That thou should visit him with grace, And love his nature so? That thine eternal Son should bear To take a mortal form; Made lower than His angels are, To save a dying worm? Yet while He lived on earth unknown, And men would not adore, The obedient seas and fishes own His Godhead and his power. The waves lay spread beneath His feat; And fish, at his command, Bring their large shoals to Peter's net, Bring tribute to his hand. Those lesser glories of the son Shone through the fleshly cloud; Now, we behold Him on His throne, And men confess Him God. Let Him be crowned with majesty, Who bowed His head to death; And be His honors sounded high, By all things that have breath. Jesus, our Lord, how wondrous great Is thine exalted name! The glories of thy heavenly state Let the whole earth proclaim.
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