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S. M.

The glory of Christ, the success of the Gospel, and the Gentile church.


My Savior and my King,

Thy beauties are divine;

Thy lips with blessings overflow,

And every grace is thine.

Now make thy glory known,

Gird on thy dreadful sword,

And ride in majesty to spread

The conquests of thy word.

Strike through thy stubborn foes,

Or melt their hearts t' obey,

While justice, meekness, grace, and truth,

Attend thy glorious way.

Thy laws, O God, are right;

Thy throne shall ever stand;

And thy victorious gospel proves

A sceptre in thy hand.

[Thy Father and thy God

Hath without measure shed

His Spirit, like a joyful oil,

T' anoint thy sacred head.]

[Behold, at thy right hand

The Gentile church is seen,

Like a fair bride in rich attire,

And princes guard the queen.]

Fair bride, receive his love,

Forget thy father's house;

Forsake thy gods, thy idol gods,

And pay thy Lord thy vows.

O let thy God and King

Thy sweetest thoughts employ;

Thy children shall his honors sing

In palaces of joy.

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