How wondrous great, how glorious bright,
Must our Creator be,
Who dwells amidst the dazzling light
Of vast infinity!

Our soaring spirits upwards rise
Toward the celestial throne;
Fain would we see the blessed Three,
And the Almighty One.

Our reason stretches all its wings,
And climbs above the skies;
But still how far beneath thy feet
Our grov'lling reason lies!

[Lord, here we bend our humble souls,
And awfully adore;
For the weak pinions of our mind
Can stretch a thought no more.]

Thy glories infinitely rise
Above our lab'ring tongue;
In vain the highest seraph tries
To form an equal song.

[In humble notes our faith adores
The great mysterious King,
While angels strain their nobler powers,
And sweep the immortal string.]