O Thou to whom arch­an­gels raise
A cease­less song of per­fect praise,
Yet trem­ble as they sing;
To us in­cline Thy gra­cious ear,
And while, with re­ver­ence, we draw near,
Accept the praise we bring.

In vain with all the an­gel choir,
The ran­somed hosts of Heav’n as­pire
Thy glo­ry to pro­claim;
How then shall we ap­proach Thy throne?
How make Thy count­less mer­cies known,
Or sing Thine aw­ful name?

Thy love alone our stay hath been,
In ev­ery dark and chang­ing scene
Throughout the circ­ling year;
Preserved by Thine al­migh­ty hand,
Again be­fore Thy face we stand,
And sing Thy good­ness here.

Father, for Je­sus’ sake re­ceive
The praise which now we glad­ly give,
Though with a stam­mer­ing tongue;
Grant us at length to see Thy face,
And join with all the ran­somed race
In Heav’n’s eter­nal song.