|NATURE with open volume stands,
To spread her Makerís praise abroad;
And every labour of His hands
Shows something worthy of our God.
|2||But in the grace that rescued man
His brightest form of glory shines;
Here, on the cross, ítis fairest drawn
In precious blood and suffering lines.
|3||Here I behold His inmost heart,
Where grace and justice strangely join,
Piercing His Son with sharpest smart,
To make the purchased blessings mine.
|4||He Who distributes crowns and thrones
The Prince of Liferesigns His breath,
Hangs on a tree and bleeds and groans;
The King of Glory bows to death!
|5||O, the sweet wonders of that cross,
Where God the Saviour loved and died!
Its noblest life my spirit draws
From His dear wounds and bleeding side.
|6||I will for ever speak His name,
In songs to mortal ears unknown:
With angels join to praise the Lamb,
And worship at His Fatherís throne.
|Isaac Watts, 1674-1748|