Angel voic­es, ev­er sing­ing,
Round Thy throne of light,
Angel harps, for­ev­er ring­ing,
Rest not day or night;
Thousands on­ly live to bless Thee,
And con­fess Thee Lord of might.

Thou who art be­yond the far­thest
Mortal eye can scan,
Can it be that Thou re­gard­est
Songs of sin­ful man?
Can we feel that Thou art near us
And wilt hear us? Yea, we can.

Yea, we know Thy love re­joic­es
O’er each work of Thine;
Thou didst ears and hands and voic­es
For Thy praise com­bine;
Craftsman’s art and mu­sic’s mea­sure
For Thy plea­sure didst de­sign.

Here, great God, to­day we of­fer
Of Thine own to Thee;
And for Thine ac­cept­ance prof­fer,
All un­wor­thi­ly,
Hearts and minds, and hands and voic­es,
In our choic­est me­lo­dy.

Honor, glo­ry, might and mer­it,
Thine shall ev­er be,
Father, Son, and Ho­ly Spir­it,
Blessèd Tri­ni­ty;
Of the best that Thou hast giv­en
Earth and Hea­ven ren­der Thee.