Let everlasting glories crown

Thy head, my Savior and my Lord;

Thy hands have brought salvation down,

And writ the blessings in thy word.

[What if we trace the globe around,

And search from Britain to Japan,

There shall be no religion found

So just to God, so safe for man.]

In vain the trembling conscience seeks

Some solid ground to rest upon;

With long despair the spirit breaks,

Till we aply to Christ alone.

How well thy blessed truths agree!

How wise and holy thy commands!

Thy promises, how firm they be!

How firm our hope and comfort stands.

[Not the feigned fields of heath'nish bliss

Could raise such pleasures in the mind;

Nor does the Turkish paradise

Pretend to joys so well refined.]

Should all the forms that men devise

Assault my faith with treach'rous art,

I'd call them vanity and lies,

And bind the gospel to my heart.