The Lord our God is clothed with might,
The winds obey His will;
He speaks, and in His heavenly height,
He speaks, and in His heavenly height,
The rolling sun stands still.
Rebel, ye waves, and o’er the land
With threatening aspect roar;
The Lord uplifts His awful hand,
The Lord uplifts His awful hand,
And chains you to the shore.
Ye winds of night, your force combine;
Without His high behest,
Ye shall not, in the mountain pine,
Ye shall not, in the mountain pine,
Disturb the sparrow’s rest.
His voice sublime is heard afar;
In distant peals it dies;
He yokes the whirlwind to His car,
He yokes the whirlwind to His car,
And sweeps the howling skies.
Ye nations, bend, in reverence bend;
Ye monarchs, wait His nod;
And bid the choral song ascend
And bid the choral song ascend
To celebrate our God.