Begin my soul the lofty strain,

In solemn accents sing

A sacred hymn of grateful praise

To heaven’s almighty King.

2 Ye curling fountains, as ye roll

Your silver waves along,

Whisper to all your verdant shores

The subject of my song.

3 Retain it long, ye echoing rocks

The sacred sound retain,

And from your hollow winding caves

Return it oft again.

4 Bear it, ye winds, on all your wings,

To distant climes away,

And round the wide-extended world

The lofty theme convey.

5 Take the glad burden of his name,

Ye clouds, as you arise,

Whether to deck the golden morn

Or shade the evening skies.

6 Whilst we, with sacred rapture fired,

The great Creator sing,

And utter consecrated lays

To heaven’s eternal King.