How magnificent is Your name,
Yahweh, our Lord and King!
The heav’ns aren’t enough to contain
Your spreading majesty!
From the mouths of babies told
And infants singing, too
You have established Your stronghold
To silence Satan’s hue.
Galaxies are Your fingers’ work
Your delicate crafts made;
What is man, just the dust of earth,
To make You fix Your gaze?
You gave him such a glorious crown
To bear Your image forth;
You gave him lordship, sea to mount,
O’er all the things of earth.
Yet now we do not see it so,
But we see Jesus Christ
Who was for love of us made low
That with Him we should rise!
God creates power and might for Himself from the lisping, learning, stammering tongues of young children. Rather than establish strength through the lips of the wise and the aged, Yahweh reveals His majesty most clearly through little boys and girls. He brings Himself glory through the youngest, weakest, most vulnerable human beings. When little children lisp the gospel, God unleashes power beyond comprehension. …
When toddlers lisp the gospel, they utter powerful, profound truth. Theologians may tease out and develop the nuances of God’s Word more fully, but a faithful scholar cannot leave behind the simple, glorious truths that come from the lips of young children. God gets all the glory because toddlers are so weak, so vulnerable that the power of the truth cannot be from them.
The universe is stunned at the magnificent majesty of God when toddlers pray before bedtime and sing in Sunday school. God creates victorious power from the lips of children who confess Him. God makes Himself great through the weakness of the weak. This should be a huge encouragement for young mothers who spend their days wiping noses, cleaning up spills, folding little hands before meals, and singing songs while changing diapers. Step back and see the big picture: God is making His name majestic in this world through you. God is establishing His strength in this world through your children as they learn to praise Him.
— James Johnston, Rejoice, The Lord is King, KL 1738, 1750.
When I consider the heavens made:
Vast voids peopled by atom bombs
Swirling around a dark gravity-drain;
Dust bunnies shine and dance there.
Ice and rock whipped around by its crumb-tail,
Cloud-spheres ringèd with a lover’s aplomb
Blue marble held in its balance so frail:
Mysteries that entrance us.
What could possibly attract the vision
Of the Maker of all this host?
What dust on a speck gets love’s commission
Over angels to reign there?
Furthermore, why would the Maker Himself
Make saving dust His boast,
For dust on that speck leave behind His wealth
To lead ransomed in train fair?
WHAT words are there to grip the marvel that
IS being known by Yahweh God, though you are but
MAN, who is less than a flea-cough, yet like the stars
THAT are called by name, so the Mighty Maker knows
YOU and–mirabile dictu–loves you! He shows His
CARE to you in a thousand ways a second,
FOR what molecule-breath could comprehend