1 Lord, in heaven, Thy dwelling-place,
Hear the praises of our race,
And, while hearing, let Thy grace
Dews of sweet forgiveness pour;
While we know, benignant King,
That the praises which we bring
Are a feeble offering,
Till Thy blessing makes it more.
2 More of truth, and more of might,
More of love, and more of light,
More of reason, and of right
From Thy pardoning grace be given!
This can make the humblest song
Sweet, acceptable, and strong,
As the strains the angels' throng
Pour around the throne of heaven.