The heavens are speaking aloud –
The wind, and the sky, and the cloud –
They’re shouting abroad the glory of God,
Proclaiming the works of His hands.
The languages of every land,
Have heard what creation demands;
Day utters words, and night yet concurs,
They shout in a patchwork of praise.
Each telling mankind of God’s ways:
His Majesty, beauty, and grace.
The galaxies hung, or wild-flowers sprung,
Or pitiful newborn’s first cry.
Oh, help me to never despise,
That voice when I hear it arise,
But let it renew my wonder of You,
And make me to join in its shout!