C.M.
1
Creatures, now all your voices raise,
And join me in my song,
It is my Maker’s wondrous praise,
Should now employ my tongue.
2
But O, this tongue so fitly made,
To sound His Name abroad,
Is far less able, without aid,
Than birds to praise the Lord.
3
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.
4
They never did their God offend,
Sin does our powers destroy,
Mankind is dumb because of sin
In every girl and boy.
5
But should the dear Redeemer speak,
And take our guilt away,
Our tongues, like angels, no more weak,
Shall praise Him more than they.
