BEFORE Jehovah's awful throne,
Ye nations, bow with sacred joy: Know that the Lord is God alone; He can create and He destroy.
His sov'reign power, without our aid,
Made us of clay and formed us men;
And when like wand'ring sheep we strayed,
He brought us to His fold again.
We'll crowd Thy gates with thankful songs, High as the heavens our voices raise; And earth, with her ten thousand tongues, Shall fill Thy courts with sounding praise.
Wide as the world is Thy command;
Vast as eternity Thy Love;
Firm as a rock Thy Truth must stand,
When rolling years shall cease to move.
By Thy birth and early years,
By Thy human griefs and fears,
By Thy fasting and distress
In the lonely wilderness,
By Thy victory, in the hour
Of the subtle tempter's power-
Saviour, look with pitying eye,
Hear our solemn Litany.
By Thine hour of dark despair,
By Thine agony of prayer,
By Thy purple robe of scorn,
By Thy wounds, Thy crown of thorn,
Cross and passion, pangs and cries,
Thine all-perfect Sacrifice—
Saviour, look with pitying eye,
Hear our solemn Litany.
By Thy last expiring groan,
By the sealed sepulchral stone,
By Thy triumph o'er the grave,
By Thy power from death to save-
Mighty God, ascended Lord!
To Thy throne in Heaven restored!
Prince and Saviour! hear the cry
Of our solemn Litany.
COME, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire,
And lighten with celestial fire.
Thou the anointing Spirit art,
Who dost Thy seven-fold gifts impart.
Thy blessed unction from above,
Is comfort, life, and fire of love.
Enable with perpetual light
The dulness of our blinded sight.
Anoint and cheer our soiled face
With the abundance of Thy grace.
Keep far our foes, give peace at home;
Where Thou art guide, no ill can come.
Teach us to know the Father, Son,
And Thee, of both, to be but One.
That, through the ages all along,
This may be our endless song;
Praise to Thy eternal merit,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
COME, let us join our cheerful songs
With angels round the throne;
Ten thousand thousand are their tongues, But all their joys are one.
Worthy the Lamb That died," they cry,
"To be exalted thus!"
"Worthy the Lamb," our lips reply, "For He was slain for us!"
Jesus is worthy to receive
Honour and power divine;
And blessings more than we can give
Be, Lord, for ever Thine.
Let all Creation join in one
To bless the sacred Name
Of Him, That sits upon the throne,
And to adore the Lamb.
COME, ye thankful people, come,
Raise the song of Harvest Home:
All is safely gathered in
Ere the winter storms begin:
God, our Maker, doth provide
For our wants to be supplied
Come to God's own temple, come,
Raise the song of Harvest Home.
We ourselves are God's own field,
Fruit unto His praise to yield:
Wheat and tares together sown,
Unto joy or sorrow grown:
First the blade and then the ear,
Then the full corn shall appear.
Grant, O Harvest Lord, that we
Wholesome grain and pure may be.
For the Lord our God shall come,
And shall take His Harvest home:
From His field shall purge away
All that shall offend that day:
Give His angels charge at last
In the fire the tares to cast;
But the fruitful ears to store
In His garner evermore.
Then, thou Church triumphant, come,
Raise the song of Harvest Home!
All are safely gathered in,
Free from sorrow, free from sin :
There for ever purified,
In God's garner to abide.
Come, ten thousand angels, come,
Raise the song of Harvest Home!
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