NATURE with open volume stands,
   To spread her Maker’s 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, ’tis 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 Life—resigns 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 Father’s throne.
Isaac Watts, 1674-1748