How wondrous great, how glorious bright,

Must our Creator be,

Who dwells amidst the dazzling light

Of vast infinity!

Our soaring spirits upwards rise

Toward the celestial throne;

Fain would we see the blessed Three,

And the Almighty One.

Our reason stretches all its wings,

And climbs above the skies;

But still how far beneath thy feet

Our grov'lling reason lies!

[Lord, here we bend our humble souls,

And awfully adore;

For the weak pinions of our mind

Can stretch a thought no more.]

Thy glories infinitely rise

Above our lab'ring tongue;

In vain the highest seraph tries

To form an equal song.

[In humble notes our faith adores

The great mysterious King,

While angels strain their nobler powers,

And sweep the immortal string.]