The Divine glories above our reason.
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.]