From time to time I like to feature a Hymn that moves me or makes me think. I love this old tune, and it is one that really gets stuck in the head after singing it!

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Words: Malt­bie D. Bab­cock, 1901, alt. While a pas­tor in Lock­port, New York, Bab­cock liked to hike in an ar­ea called “the es­carp­ment,” an an­cient up­thrust ledge near Lock­port. It has a mar­vel­ous view of farms, or­chards, and Lake On­tar­io, about 15 miles dis­tant. It is said those walks in the woods in­spired these lyr­ics. The ti­tle re­calls an ex­press­ion Bab­cock used when start­ing a walk: “I’m go­ing out to see my Fa­ther’s world.”

Music: Terra Beata, tra­di­tion­al Eng­lish mel­o­dy, ar­ranged by Frank­lin L. Shep­pard in his Al­le­lu­ia, 1915.

This Is My Father’s World

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.

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