O WORSHIP THE KING

There are several great hymns of worship that have not only survived but have withstood the test of time.  This week's choice is one of those.  In poetic form it describes God's impact upon the lives of His children over the years.  The Ancient of Days is our Shield and Defender from all the attacks of Satan.  He is our Maker who cares for us with His bountiful care.  He is our Redeemer whose mercies are tender.  And this great King is also our Friend.  And we, who are the frail children of dust, feeble and frail, can put our faith in Him for He will not fail.  And with this knowledge and experience we should daily sing gratefully of His power and His love.  Charles Grant (1778-1838) was born in India but  moved back to England when he was seven years old. He became a lawyer at age 29, a member of Parliament at 48 and was elected Judge Advocate General at 54. At age 56 he was knighted and then appointed Governor of Bombay, India, where he died at the age of 60.  He was also a devout evangelical christian who took every opportunity to share the Good News. He was a financial supporter of missionaries, and was loved by the people of India, who established a medical college in his honor. Several of Grant's writings, prose and poetry, were published during his lifetime. After his death, his brother gathered 12 of Grant's poems into a book titled Sacred Poems. One of those poems, O Worship the King, was set to music by Johann Michael Hadyn and has appeared in church hymnals ever since.  I hope that as you review and sing the words of this profound hymn this week that you will be filled with awe, praise and thanksgiving as you worship the King.

O worship the King, all glorious above,

O gratefully sing His power and His love;

Our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of Days,

Pavilioned in splendor, and girded with praise.

O tell of His might, O sing of His grace,

Whose robe is the light, whose canopy space,

His chariots of wrath the deep thunderclouds form,

And dark is His path on the wings of the storm.

Thy bountiful care, what tongue can recite?

It breathes in the air, it shines in the light;

It streams from the hills, it descends to the plain,

And sweetly distills in the dew and the rain.

Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail,

In Thee do we trust, nor find Thee to fail;

Thy mercies how tender, how firm to the end,

Our Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend.

You can listen to it here.  LISTEN