The Lord, our God, is full of might,
The winds obey his will;
He speaks, -- and, in his heavenly height,
The rolling sun stands still.

2 Rebel, ye waves, and o'er the land
With threatening aspect roar;
The Lord uplifts his awful hand,
And chains you to the shore.

3 Howl, winds of night, your force combine;
Without his high behest,
Ye shall not, in the mountain pine,
Disturb the sparrow's nest.

4 His voice sublime is heard afar,
In distant peals it dies;
He yokes the whirlwind to his car,
And sweeps the howling skies.

5 Ye nations bend -- in reverence bend;
Ye monarchs, wait his nod,
And bid the choral song ascend
To celebrate your God.

H. Kirke White.