King of glo­ry, King of peace,
I will love Thee;
And that love may ne­ver cease,
I will move Thee.
Thou hast grant­ed my re­quest,
Thou hast heard me;
Thou didst note my work­ing breast,
Thou hast spared me.

Wherefore with my ut­most art
I will sing Thee,
And the cream of all my heart
I will bring Thee.
Though my sins against me cried,
Thou alone didst clear me;
And alone, when they re­plied,
Thou didst hear me.

Seven whole days, not one in sev­en,
I will praise Thee;
In my heart, though not in Hea­ven,
I can raise Thee.
Small it is, in this poor sort
To en­roll Thee:
E’en eter­ni­ty’s too short
To ex­tol Thee.