This is My Father's World

This is another one of my favorite old hymns!  Please be sure to listen to Fernando Ortega singing it set to a beautiful video!

This is My Father's World by Maltbie D. Babcock, 1901

This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world, the birds their carols raise,
The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.
This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;
In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father’s world: the battle is not done:
Jesus Who died shall be satisfied,
And earth and Heav’n be one.

This is my Father’s world, dreaming, I see His face.
I ope my eyes, and in glad surprise cry, “The Lord is in this place.”
This is my Father’s world, from the shining courts above,
The Beloved One, His Only Son,
Came—a pledge of deathless love.

This is my Father’s world, should my heart be ever sad?
The lord is King—let the heavens ring. God reigns—let the earth be glad.
This is my Father’s world. Now closer to Heaven bound,
For dear to God is the earth Christ trod.
No place but is holy ground.

This is my Father’s world. I walk a desert lone.
In a bush ablaze to my wondering gaze God makes His glory known.
This is my Father’s world, a wanderer I may roam
Whate’er my lot, it matters not,
My heart is still at home.

Psalm 50:7-12 The Message

"Are you listening, dear people? I'm getting ready to speak;
      Israel, I'm about ready to bring you to trial.
   This is God, your God,
      speaking to you.
   I don't find fault with your acts of worship,
      the frequent burnt sacrifices you offer.
   But why should I want your blue-ribbon bull,
      or more and more goats from your herds?
   Every creature in the forest is mine,
      the wild animals on all the mountains.
   I know every mountain bird by name;
      the scampering field mice are my friends.
   If I get hungry, do you think I'd tell you?
      All creation and its bounty are mine.
   Do you think I feast on venison?
      or drink draughts of goats' blood?
   Spread for me a banquet of praise,
      serve High God a feast of kept promises,
   And call for help when you're in trouble—
      I'll help you, and you'll honor me."

Have a wonderful weekend!

Photo courtesy of Photobucket.com