Oh, worship the King, all-glorious above.
Oh, gratefully sing God's power and love;
our shield and defender, the Ancient of Days,
pavilioned in splendor, and girded with praise.
The earth with its store of wonders untold,
Almighty, your pow'r has founded of old;
established it fast by a changeless decree,
and round it has cast, like a mantle, the sea.
Your bountiful care what tongue can recite?
It breathes in the air, it shines in the light,
it streams from the hills, it descends to the plain,
and sweetly distills in the dew and the rain.
Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail,
in you do we trust, nor find you to fail;
your mercies, how tender, how firm to the end,
our maker, defender, redeemer, and friend.
O measureless might, ineffable love,
while angels delight to hymn you above,
the humbler creation, though feeble their lays,
with true adoration shall sing to your praise.
Sometimes when I don't know what to pray, I pray the psalms. They are so honest and put into words many of my emotions. This song, based on Psalm 104, echoes many of the psalms of praise. The writer, Robert Grant, was a privileged man who was concerned with social issues of his day. He fought for many minority groups who were oppressed and who had little voice.
We read daily of those oppressed in the world today. The paper is full of stories about warfare, poverty and rioting. Innocents suffer and the guilty go free. The list of wrongs could go on and on. Still, even in the midst of this, we continue to sing, "O worship the king all glorious above!" We believe God is sovereign, that justice is sure. In the midst of—or perhaps because of—the suffering that surrounds us, we " ... tell of his might" and " ... sing of his grace."