The Lord our God is clothed with might,
The winds obey His will;
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 mighty hand,
And chains you to the shore.
Howl, winds of night! Your force combine!
Without His high behest,
You shall not, in the mountain pine,
Disturb the sparrow’s nest.
His voice sublime is heard afar,
In distant peals it dies:
He yokes the whirlwinds to His car
And sweeps the howling skies.
Ye nations, bend—in reverence bend:Henry Kirke White
Ye monarchs, wait His nod;
And bid the choral song ascend
To celebrate our God.
Copied from my grandmother’s hymnal, Hymn Book, Methodist Episcopal Church, South: Nashville, TN, 1901, Hymn #51.
Note: The hymns in this hymnal are not titled. So when I do not know the hymn, I make up a title or simply use the first line.
Photo taken in Milton, FL, 2018