8,6,8,6

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.