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Hymn for the Kingswood Colliers
Glory to God, whose sovereign grace Hath animated senseless stones, Call’d us to stand before His face, And raised us into Abraham’s sons. |
The people that in darkness lay, In sin and error’s deadly shade, Have seen a glorious Gospel day, In Jesu’s lovely face display’d. |
Thou only, Lord, the work hast done, And bared Thine arm in all our sight; Hast made the reprobates Thy own, And claim’d the outcasts as Thy right. |
Thy single arm, Almighty Lord, To us the great salvation brought; Thy Word, Thy all-creating Word, That spake at first the world from nought. |
For this the saints lift up their voice, And ceaseless praise to Thee is given For this the hosts above rejoice: We raise the happiness of heaven. |
For this, no longer sons of night, To Thee our thanks and hearts we give To Thee who call’d us into light, To Thee we die, to Thee we live. |
Suffice that for the season past Hell’s horrid language fill’d our tongues, We all Thy words behind us cast, And loudly sang the drunkard’s songs. |
But, O the power of grace Divine! In hymns we now our voices raise, Loudly in strange hosannas join, And blasphemies are turn’d to praise! |
Praise God, from whom all blessings flow; Praise Him, all creatures here below; Praise Him above, ye heavenly host; Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. |
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