And now the wants are told, that brought
Thy child­ren to Thy knee;
Here lin­ger­ing still, we ask for naught,
But simp­ly wor­ship Thee.

The hope of Heav’n’s eter­nal days
Absorbs not all the heart
That gives Thee glo­ry, love, and praise
For be­ing what Thou art.

For Thou art God, the One, the Same,
O’er all things high and bright;
And round us, when we speak Thy name,
There spreads a heav’n of light.

O won­drous peace, in thought to dwell
On ex­cel­lence di­vine;
To know that naught in man can tell
How fair Thy beau­ties shine!

O Thou, above all bless­ing blest,
O’er thanks ex­alt­ed far,
Thy ve­ry great­ness is a rest
To weak­lings as we are.

For when we feel the praise of Thee
A task be­yond our pow­ers,
We say, A per­fect God is He,
And He is ful­ly ours.

All glo­ry to the Fa­ther be,
All glo­ry to the Son,
All glo­ry, Ho­ly Ghost, to Thee,
While end­less ag­es run.