How glorious is our heavenly King,
Who reigns above the sky!
How shall a child presume to sing
His dreadful majesty?
How great his power is none can tell,
Nor think how large his grace;
Not men below, nor saints that dwell
On high before his face.
Not angels, that stand round the Lord,
Can search his secret will;
But they perform his heavenly word,
And sing his praises still.
Then let me join this holy train,
And my first offerings bring:
Th’ eternal God will not disdain
To hear an infant sing.
My heart resolves, my tongue obeys;
And angels will rejoice
To hear their mighty Maker’s praise
Sound from a feeble voice.