This is my Father's world, and to my list'ning 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 ev'rywhere.
This is my Father's world; oh, 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.