7.6.7.6.D. sung to Lymington 1 ERE God had built the mountains, Or raised the fruitful hills, Before He filled the fountains That feed the running rills, In Thee from everlasting, The wonderful I AM Found pleasures never wasting, And Wisdom is Thy name. 2 When like a tent to dwell in, He spread the skies abroad, And swathed about the swelling Of ocean's mighty flood, He wrought by weight and measure; And Thou wast with Him then, Thyself the Father's pleasure, And Thine, the sons of men. 3 And couldst Thou be delighted With creatures such as we, Who, when we saw Thee, slighted, And nailed Thee to the tree? Unfathomable wonder, And mystery divine! The voice that speaks in thunder, Says, "Sinner I am thine". 4 And art Thou, Lord, delighted To call us now Thine own --- The love no longer slighted Which Thou to us hast shown? Oh, way of purposed blessing In death told out to man! The fruit we're now possessing, Of Wisdom's wondrous plan. | Alternative tunes (7.6.7.6.D.) |