1
Nature with open volume
stands,
To spread its Maker's
praise abroad;
And every labor of His
hands
Shows something worthy of
our God.
2
But in the grace that
rescued us
His brightest form of glory
shines;
'Tis fairest drawn upon the
cross
In precious blood and
crimson lines.
3
Here His whole name appears
complete.
Nor wit can guess, nor
reason prove,
Which of the letters best
is writ,
The pow'r, the wisdom, or
the love.
4
We would forever speak His
name
In sounds to mortal ears
unknown,
With angels join to praise
the Lamb,
And worship at His Father's
throne.
No comments:
Post a Comment