Bright King of glo­ry, dread­ful God!
Our spir­its bow be­fore Thy seat,
To Thee we lift a hum­ble thought,
And wor­ship at Thine aw­ful feet.

Thy pow­er hath formed, Thy wis­dom sways,
All na­ture with a so­ver­eign word;
And the bright world of stars ob­eys
The will of their su­pe­ri­or Lord.

Mercy and truth unite in one,
And smil­ing sit at Thy right hand;
Eternal jus­tice guards Thy throne,
And ven­geance waits Thy dread com­mand.

A thou­sand se­raphs, strong and bright,
Stand round the glo­ri­ous De­ity;
But who amongst the sons of light
Pretends com­pa­ri­son with Thee?

Yet there is one of hu­man frame,
Jesus, ar­rayed in flesh and blood,
Thinks it no rob­be­ry to claim
A full equa­li­ty with God.

Their glo­ry shines with eq­ual beams,
Their es­sence is for ev­er one,
Though they are known by dif­fer­ent names,
The Fa­ther God, and God the Son.

Then let the name of Christ our king
With eq­ual ho­nors be adored;
His praise let ev­ery an­gel sing,
And all the na­tions own their Lord.