Creatures, now all your voices raise,
And join me in my song,
It is my Maker’s wondrous praise,
Should now employ my tongue.
But O, this tongue so fitly made,
To sound His Name abroad,
Is far less able, without aid,
Than birds to praise the Lord.
The wind and tempest, moon and sun,
The powers of earth and sea,
Can better praise the Three-in-One
Than a poor child like me.
They never did their God offend,
Sin does our powers destroy,
Mankind is dumb because of sin
In every girl and boy.
But should the dear Redeemer speak,
And take our guilt away,
Our tongues, like angels, no more weak,
Shall praise Him more than they.