Isaac Watts
Blue Hill
Eternal power! whose high abode
Becomes the grandeur of a God;
Infinite length! beyond the bounds
Where stars revolve their little rounds

The lowest step about thy seat
Rises too high for Gabriel's feet:
In vain the tall archangel tries
To reach thy height with wondering eyes

Thy dazzling beauties while he sings
He hides his face behind his wings;
And ranks of shining thrones around
Fall worshipping, and spread the ground

Lord, what shall earth and ashes do?
We would adore our Maker too;
From sin and dust to thee we cry
“The great, the holy, and the high!”

Earth from afar has heard thy fame
And worms have learnt to lisp thy name:
But, oh! the glories of thy mind
Leave all our soaring thoughts behind

God is in heaven, and men below;
Be short, our tunes; our words be few;
A sacred reverence checks our songs
And praise sits silent on our tongues