Praises to Him Who Built the Hills

Praises to Him who built the hills;
Praises to Him the streams who fills;
Praises to Him who lights each star
That spark­les in the blue afar.

Praises to Him who makes the morn,
And bids it glow with beams new-born;
Who draws the sha­dows of the night,
Like cur­tains, o’er our wea­ried sight.

Praises to Him whose love has giv­en,
In Christ His Son, the Life of Heav­en;
Who for our dark­ness gives us light,
And turns to day our deep­est night.

Praises to Him, in grace who came,
To bear our woe, and sin, and shame;
Who lived to die, who died to rise,
The God-ac­cept­ed sac­ri­fice.

Praises to Him the chain who broke,
Opened the pri­son, burst the yoke,
Sent forth its cap­tives, glad and free,
Heirs of an end­less li­ber­ty.

Praises to Him who sheds abroad
Within our hearts the love of God;
The Spir­it of all truth and peace,
Fountain of joy and ho­li­ness!

The Fa­ther, Son, and Spir­it, now
The hands we lift, the knees we bow;
To Jah-Je­ho­vah thus we raise
The sin­ner’s song of end­less praise

Words: Horatius Bonar, 1861.