PSALM VIII.

George Burgess

Yet, the babe's and suckling's song
Thou hast fill'd with strength so strong,
That the raging foe shall quail,
That th' avenger's arm shall fail.

When I see thy heav'nly arch,
Moon and stars in radiant march,
Where thy hand their station plac'd;
Where their path thy fingers trac'd;

What has man, O Lord of all,
That thine eye so low should fall?
Thou his honour'd crown hast giv'n
Just beneath the crowns of heav'n:

Thou hast taught thy works below
Him their sov'reign chief to know:
Flocks and herds, a countless train;
All that roams the fruitful plain;

All that cleaves th' ethereal blue;
All that glides the dark waves through:
Lord our Lord, how great art thou!
Heav'n and earth to bless thee bow!