These are thy wonders, Lord of power!
Thrilling and quick’ning, bringing down to hell,
And up to heaven in an hour;
Making a chiming of a passing bell.
We say amiss,
This or that is:
Thy word is all, if we would spell.
Oh, that I once past changing were
Fast in thy Paradise, where no flow’r can wither!
Many a spring I shot up fair,