Isaac Watts
Sharon
How glorious is our heavenly King
Who reigns above the sky!
How shall a child presume to sing
His dreadful majesty?

How great His power is none can tell
Nor think how large His grace;
Not men below, nor saints that dwell
On high before His face

Not angels that stand round the Lord
Can search His secret will;
But they perform His heavenly word
And sing His praises still

Then let me join this holy train
And my first offerings bring;
The eternal God will not disdain
To hear an infant sing

My heart resolves, my tongue obeys
And angels shall rejoice
To hear their mighty Maker’s praise
Sound from a feeble voice