Being His

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His oceans all rumble and batter His shore,
But He will be new when its waves are no more.
His mountains reach skyward to touch His sweet face;
His forests burst forth as He showers their place.

The mighty Leviathan leaps in His seas,
The eagle mounts up on the joy of His breeze.
The creatures of earth borrow life from His hand,
Their days are all numbered by His firm command.

Eternity springs from His Infinite Mind—
All time and all space from His fingers unwind,
His intricate, limitless, unbounded skill
Spins threads of His sovereign, inscrutable will.

The thunder of Sinai resounds in our ears,
The judgment of God stirs the deepest of fears!
But, awesome and wondrous—more staggering still—
The flashes of lightning from Calvary’s hill!

But O! How mighty, how perfect, how free,
How blessèd, how precious, how lovely is He!
And O! How grand, and how sweet to behold
The trophies of grace He has won from of old!

A radiant triumph illumines His face!
He strides to His throne, the Colossus of Grace!
He sits, and His Father proclaims Him True Son!
His strife is now over; His battle is done.

We bow, we adore, we fall down at His throne,
He gathers us into His arms as His own!
He seats us in glory beside Him above,
To crown His achievement with splendors of love!