Not to the terrors of the Lord,

The tempest, fire, and smoke;

Not to the thunder of that word

Which God on Sinai spoke;—

But we are come to Zion’s hill,

The city of our God,

Where milder words declare His will,

And spread His love abroad.

Behold the great, the glorious host

Of angels, clothed in light!

Behold the spirits of the just,

Whose faith is turned to sight!

In such society as this,

My weary soul would rest;

For he who dwells where Jesus is

Must be forever blest.