O Lord, ’tis matter of high praise,

Thy Word on us doth shine,

But happy they who feel its rays,

And glorious power divine.

 

O let poor sinners feel their sin

Prick them, as with a sword;

And purge out all that filth within;

So will we praise Thy Word.

 

Enlightened souls have cause to sing,

Who wounded were by Thee;

True cause of joy to such doth spring;

For they, Lord, healèd be.

 

And now in robes most richly decked,

They to the King are brought;

Surpassing angels, for have they

A robe so richly wrought.

 

We therefore throw our crowns belowThy high and glorious throne;

And must all say, both night and day,

Thou worthy art alone,

 

All glory, power, and praise to have,

By us forevermore;

Thus let us sing unto our king,

And Him in heart adore.

 

 

Spiritual Songs: Being the Marrow of the Scripture (London: John Marshal, 1700)