Classic Poem

O Frame the strains anew,
Your grateful natures shew
To Christ, the source of holy song;
For passing deeds he wrought,
Until to God he brought,
By miracle, the faithless throng.

With hands which saints revere,
And arm without compeer,
He has the vast atchievement done
And over death and hell,
With all the Fiends that fell,
This day's immortal trophies won.

CHRIST JESUS has declar'd
That sinners shall be spar'd,
And that through him salvation came;
The world could not convince
Of sin the righteous prince,
So manifest his spotless fame.

He still has bore in mind
His mercies, loving kind,
And truth to Jacob's house engag'd;
And all remotest earth
Have seen, in Shilo's birth,
Salvation, as by seers presag'd.

Them, O ye peopl'd lands,
Unite in tuneful bands,
And to the Lord your gladness tell,
For such a blest reverse
Your hymns of thanks rehearse
Your songs of exultation swell.

Ye jocund harpers, kneel,
As you the impulse feel,
And to the Lord your praise intend;
Ye holy psalmists join
In harmony divine,
And all your grateful voices blend.

The chearful trumpet sound,
And let the horns be wound,
To yield thro' twisted brass their tone;
The choicest notes employ,
To prove your hearty joy
In him that sits upon the throne.

Let ocean make a noise
With ev'ry isle he buoys,
And all the life his floods contain,
The rounded world above,
And all that live and love
Their Maker on the hills or plain.

The vast and briny broad
All hands aloft applaud,
E'en as the mountain or the rock,
Which also have their ways,
In spirit God to praise,
Who comes by Christ to judge his flock.

Descending from on high,
His people he shall try,
In mercy, goodness, and in grace;
His merits we shall plead,
Till rigour must recede,
And wrath to charity give place.