1 With transport, Lord! we view the page,
Where all thy mercies shine;
And joy to tell the rising age,
What boundless grace is thine.

2 The world, with all its shifting schemes,
Time, with its fleeting hours,
Life, with its gay and flatt'ting dreams,
Its hopes and fears, is ours.

3 Death, also, at our Father's word,
Lays all its terrors by;
Gently divides the silver cord,
And calls us to the sky.

4 Fain would our hearts a tribute bring,
Before our Father's throne;
A tribute worthy of our King,
Whose mercies are unknown.