Bless the Lord, O my soul! O Lord my God, You are very great: You are clothed with honor and majesty. (Psalm 104:1)
In all human life, there is a consciousness of a supreme power. Even the most primitive savage is a religious being as he attempts to fulfill his duties to the invisible powers he senses about him. Since the beginning of time, music has always had a unique association with man’s worship experiences.
The word “worship” is a contraction of an old expression in the English language, “woerth-scipe,” denoting the ascription of reverence to an object of superlative worth. A more theological definition of worship is given as follows: “An act by a redeemed man, the creature, toward God, his Creator, whereby his will, intellect and emotions gratefully respond to the revelation of God’s person expressed in the redemptive work of Jesus Christ, as the Holy Spirit illuminates the written Word to his heart.”
“O Worship the King” has often been called a model hymn for worship, as it has few equals when it comes to expressive lyrics in the exaltation of the Almighty. Each epithet/adjective applied to God—King, Shield, Defender, Ancient of Days, Maker, Redeemer, Friend—as well as the vivid imagery and the references to His attributes—power, mighty, grace, bountiful care, love—all combine to describe with literary eloquence and spiritual warmth the majesty and praise-worthiness of God.
The tune for this hymn, “Lyons,” first appeared in the second volume of William Gardiner’s Sacred Melodies in 1815, where it was attributed to Michael Haydn (brother to Joseph Haydn). The text was written by Sir Robert Grant of Bengal, India, in 1779. Grant was a devout and deeply spiritual lay evangelical Christian all of his life, and was greatly loved by the people of India. In 1839, a year after his death, Robert’s brother, Charles, had twelve of his poems published in a little volume titled Sacred Poems. Although several of these poem hymns received some acceptance, only this text is still in common usage in most hymnals today.
O worship the King, all glorious above,
And gratefully sing His pow’r 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.