Now may the LORD reveal his face,

And teach our stamm’ring tongues

To make his sovereign, reigning grace,

The subject of our songs:

No sweeter subject can invite

A sinner’s heart to sing;

Or more display the glorious right

Of our exalted King.

This subject fills the starry plains

With wonder, joy, and love;

And furnishes the noblest strains

For all the harps above:

While the redeemed in praise combine

To grace upon the throne;

Angels in solemn chorus join,

And make the theme their own.

Grace reigns, to pardon crimson sins,

To melt the hardest hearts;

And from the work it once begins,

It never more departs.

The world and Satan strive in vain,

Against the chosen few;

Secured by grace’s conqu’ring reign,

They all shall conquer too.

Grace tills the soil, and sows the seeds,

Provides the sun and rain;

Till from the tender blade proceeds

The ripened harvest grain.

’Twas grace that called our souls at first,

By grace thus far we’re come,

And grace will help us through the worst,

And lead us safely home.

LORD, when this changing life is past

If we may see thy face;

How shall we praise, and love, at last,

And sing the reign of grace!

Yet let us aim while here below

Thy mercy to display;

And own at least the debt we owe,

Although we cannot pay.