| Lord our God, in reverence lowly, The hosts of heaven call Thee "holy." From cherubim and seraphim, From angel phalanx, far extending, In fuller tones is still ascending The "holy, holy," of their hymn. 134 The fount of joy Thou art, Ever filling every heart, Ever! ever! We too are Thine, and with them sing, "Thou, Lord, and only Thou art King." | | Lord, there are bending now before Thee The elders, with their crowned glory, The first-born of the blessed band. There, too, earth's ransomed and forgiven Brought by the Saviour safe to heaven, In glad unnumbered myriads stand. Loud are the songs of praise Their mingled voices raise, Ever! ever! We too are Thine, and with them sing, "Thou, Lord, and only Thou art King." | | They sing in sweet, and sinless numbers, The wondrous love that never slumbers, And of the wisdom, power, and might, The truth and faithfulness abiding, And over all Thy works presiding. But they can scarcely praise aright; For all is never sung, Even by seraph's tongue, Never! never! We too are Thine, and with them sing, "Thou, Lord, and only Thou art King." | | 135 Oh! come, reveal Thyself more fully, That we may learn to praise more truly; Make every heart a temple true, Filled with Thy glory overflowing, More of Thy love each morning showing, And waking praises loud and new-- Here let Thy peace divine Over Thy children shine, Ever! ever! And glad or sad, we joining sing, "Thou, Lord, and only Thou art King." | |