1 What Glories surrounding my Saviour I see!
What Beauties triumphant, my Jesus in Thee!
What Glory, or Power may with Thee compare,
Or thy Generation, what Tongue can declare?
The Heavens are silent and cannot decide,
This Mystery only belongs to the Bride.
2 Thou hast, my dear Saviour, in Glory and Truth,
From the Womb of the Morning, the Dew of thy Youth:
The Morning of Love, eternal and bright,
With Honour bedew'd thee, and nourish'd thee right;
When secretly thou wast existing above,
In God, as the Word, and the Son of his Love.
3 Thine Off-spring for Number as Sands on the Shore,
Or Morning Dew Drops on the Earth scatter'd o'er,
Were then as thy Mystery, Fulness, and Truth,
All gather'd in thee as the Dew of thy Youth:
In thee as thy Splendor of Youth did we shine;
In Beauties of Holiness, Godlike, divine.
4 And when we had fallen from Heaven to Earth,
And could not return there, but thro' a new Birth;
Our Nature as spoil'd in Adam who fell,
As sunk in our Reason and Senses to Hell,
We then were in Myst'ry preserved in thee;
Our Earthy tho' fallen, our Heavenly was free.
5 As the second Adam then didst thou appear,
The Lord from on High for to banish our Fear;
Thou found'st us sunk in the earthy lost Man,
And him thou assumedst to finish the Plan,
That Plan where 'twas fix'd that Transgression should cease,
And all our Creation restor'd to thy Peace.
6 This hast thou effected by shedding thy Blood,
Hast brought back our Nature in Union with God.
From the earthy man thou hast set us free,
Has brought us to live and to triumph in thee.
'Tis here we receive our Intelligence sure,
Of our Preservation in thee always pure.
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