O my Sav­ior, glo­ri­fied!
Now the hea­vens, op­ened wide,
Show to faith’s ex­ult­ant eye
One in beau­te­ous ma­jes­ty.

Worthy of the sweet­est praise
That my ran­somed heart can raise,
Is that Man in whom alone
God Him­self is ful­ly known.

For those clus­ter­ing glo­ries prove
That glad Gos­pel, God is Love.
Whilst those wounds, in glo­ry bright,
Voice the so­lemn, God is Light.

Hark, my soul! thy Sav­ior sings;
Catch the joy that mu­sic brings;
And, with that sweet flood of song,
Pour thy whis­per­ing praise along.

O my Sav­ior, glo­ri­fied,
Turn my eye from all be­side,
Let me but Thy beau­ty see—
Other light is dark to me.