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HYMN 17

C. M.

God's eternity.

414

Rise, rise, my soul, and leave the ground,

Stretch all thy thoughts abroad,

And rouse up every tuneful sound

To praise th' eternal God.

Long ere the lofty skies were spread,

Jehovah filled his throne;

Or Adam formed, or angels made,

The Maker lived alone.

His boundless years can ne'er decrease,

But still maintain their prime;

Eternity's his dwelling-place,

And ever is his time.

While like a tide our minutes flow,

The present and the past,

He fills his own immortal now,

And sees our ages waste.

The sea and sky must perish too,

And vast destruction come;

The creatures-look! how old they grow,

And wait their fiery doom!

Well, let the sea shrink all away,

And flame melt down the skies,

My God shall live an endless day,

When th' old creation dies.

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