Holy and re­ver­end is the name
Of our eter­nal king:
Thrice ho­ly Lord, the an­gels cry,
Thrice holy, let us sing!

Heaven’s bright­est lamps with Him com­pared,
Are mean and look but dim!
And an­gels fair have too their spots,
When once com­pared with Him.

Holy is He in all his works,
And truth is His de­light;
But sin­ners and their wick­ed ways
Shall per­ish from His sight.

Holy the tem­ple where of old
Th’Almighty fixed His seat;
Sacred His al­tar with its fire,
And ho­ly ev­ery priest.

But tem­ples made with human hands
Our God no more doth prize;
The hum­ble heart His tem­ple is,
And pray­er the sac­ri­fice.

The ve­ne­ra­tion of the mind,
My soul pay to Thy God;
Lift with the hands a ho­ly heart
To His sub­lime abode.

With sac­red awe pro­nounce His name,
Whom words nor thoughts can reach;
A brok­en heart shall please Him more
Than the best forms of speech.

Thou ho­ly God! pre­serve my soul
From all pol­lu­tion free;
The pure in heart are Thy de­light,
And they Thy face shall see.