THy name, O Lord, is wonderful,
And wonderful thou art;
We stand amaz’d and wonder do,
And so does ev’ry heart

That hath a saving sight of thee,
They all are in a maze
Whilst they behold thy majesty,
God does to glory raise.

Thy Name, O that is Wonderful,
So is thy Nature too;
Thy Saints do marvel, well they may,
For Angels wonder do;

They see with strange astonishment:
Should Heaven and Earth combine
O search out thy perfections great,
Them can they never find

To such degree as, Lord, in thee
They gloriously do shine:
Strange was thy Birth, all Saints on Earth
Cry thou art all divine.

All praise and glory now therefore
We unto thee do sing,
And do resolve yet more and more
To magnifie our King.

Is’t not a Wonder a Woman,
As Holy Writ does say,
Should in such sort compass a Man,
Who with Man never lay?

To see him whom the World did make,
Of a poor Virgin born!
To see him who was God most high,
Left like to one forlorn!

To see the Heir of both the Worlds
In a base Manger lye;
And Blessedness it self to be
Doomed to misery!

To see the Ancient of all days,
A Babe of a day old!
To see one Person God and Man
The wonder doth unfold!

He that the Heir of all things was,
Whom Angels honoured,
Is now so mean and poor that he
Has no place to lay’s head.

Unto thy name so Wonderful
Be glory now therefore;
O let us look and wonder still!
Yea, wonder evermore.

The wonders of thy Life were much,
Strange wonders in thy Death;
The wonders of thy Blood are such,
It all astonish’d hath.

Thy Power’s great and wonderful,
Strange wonders in thy Love;
Great wonders we do see below,
But stranger are above.

Let’s look, and love, and wonder still,
Till we are ravished;
Our hearts with grace, Lord, do thou fill,
So shall thy fame be spread

By us: And whilst we wonder do,
Let’s think upon that day
VVhen greater wonders out will flow
To do all in away:

And when to the great wonderment
Thou wilt in glory come,
With all thy mighty Angels too,
To carry us all home,

Then shalt thou be admired
By all thy Children dear,
And they with thee (as it is said)
In glory shall appear.

  • Hymn #47 from “A Feast of Fat Things” by Benjamin Keach, 1640-1704

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