Spirit of power and might, behold

A world by sin destroy'd,

Creator-Spirit, as of old,

Move on the formless void.

Give Thou the word:--that healing sound

Shall quell the deadly strife,

And earth again, like Eden crown'd,

Produce the Tree of Life.

If sang the morning stars for joy,

When nature rose to view,

What strains will angel-harps employ,

When Thou shalt all renew!

And if the sons of God rejoice

To hear a Saviour's name,

How will the ransom'd raise their voice,

To whom that Saviour came!

So every kindred, tongue, and tribe,

Assembling round the throne,

Thy new creation shall ascribe

To sovereign love alone.