He who on earth as man was known,
And bore our sins and pains;
Now, seat­ed on th’eter­nal throne,
The God of glo­ry reigns.

His hands the wheels of na­ture guide
With an un­er­ring skill;
And count­less worlds ex­tend­ed wide,
Obey His so­ve­reign will.

While harps un­num­bered sound His praise,
In yon­der world above;
His saints on earth ad­mire His ways,
And glo­ry in His love.

His right­eous­ness, to faith re­vealed,
Wrought out for guil­ty worms,
Affords a hid­ing place and shield,
From en­emies and storms.

This land, through which His pil­grims go,
Is de­so­late and dry;
But streams of grace from Him o’er­flow
Their thirst to sa­tis­fy.

When trou­bles, like a burn­ing sun,
Beat hea­vy on their head;
To this al­migh­ty Rock they run,
And find a pleas­ing shade.

How glo­ri­ous He! how hap­py they
In such a glo­ri­ous friend!
Whose love se­cures them all the way,
And crowns them at the end.