Sweet Singers of Wales

All heaven and earth are filled with God,

Hell knows His present sight;

Eternity is His abode,

His name the Infinite:

He fills all distances of space,

And reigns almighty as He lists;

His years, His strength can grow no less,

He in Himself exists.

Existing in Himself, before

He framed the depth, the height,

Beyond the past eternal shore,

He was the Infinite;

Without beginning of His days,

No end of life to Him can be;

Eternal still in all His ways,

The Perfect Trinity.

There is no measure of His grace,

And therefore it is well;

We have been told His wondrous praise,

His rule invisible:

And as we heard, so have we seen

The endless marvels of His plan:

Unchangeable His truth has been,

Though great the sin of man.

No spirit bright is left to faint,

Of His regard denied;

No angel, no redeemèd saint

But in His care abide:

Each in His presence stands revealed,

To His good pleasure consecrate;

Their comely praise to Him they yield,

And magnify their state.

We too on earth are seen to stand

For ever in His sight;

We live in Him, we feel His hand

In darkness as in light:

He knows what secret sin we bear,

He watches all we do amiss;

For at each moment everywhere

In heaven and earth He is.

Each evil thought or good unknown

Lies open to His eye;

He hears the sigh, the silent moan,

As well as terror's cry:

He takes the heart of man to read,

He knows how empty each design:

The wish undone is as a deed,

Writ in the book divine.

My soul, thou art a Father's care,

He sees thy purpose weak:

Thou hast a Brother pleading there

Before thou ever speak:

Thy Father--He will not despise

To hear desire's softest call;

Although thy lips be dumb, His eyes

Can see and pity all.

When in some secret place I mourn

Beneath some cross of care,

By heavy burdens overborne,

Too hard for me to bear;

One memory will cheer me still--

To God's dear Son my state is known;

I shall not always bear this ill,

A better life will dawn.