Blest be the Fa­ther and His love,
To whose ce­les­ti­al source we owe
Rivers of end­less joy above,
And rills of com­fort here be­low.

Glory to Thee, great Son of God,
From whose dear wound­ed body rolls
A pre­cious stream of vital blood,
Pardon and life for dy­ing souls.

We give the sac­red Spi­rit praise,
Who in our hearts of sin and woe
Makes liv­ing springs of grace arise,
And into bound­less glo­ry flow.

Thus God the Fa­ther, God the Son,
And God the Spi­rit, we adore;
That sea of life and love un­known,
Without a bot­tom or a shore.