Lord, when my thoughts with wonder roll
O’er the sharp sorrows of thy soul
And read my Maker’s broken laws
Repaired and honour’d by thy cross
When I behold death, hell, and sin
Vanquished by that dear blood of thine,
And see the Man that groan’d and died
Sit glorious by his Father’s side;
My passions rise and soar above,
I’m wing’d with faith and fir’d with love;
Fain would I reach eternal things,
And learn the notes that Gabriel sings.
But my heart fails, my tongue compains,
For want of their immortal strains;
And, in such humble notes as these,
Must fall below thy victories
Well, the kind minute must appear
When we shall leave these bodies here,
These clogs of clay, and mount on high,
To join the songs above the sky.
