1 Glory to God that walks the sky, And sends his blessings thro', That tells his saints of joys on high, And gives a taste below.
2 [Glory to God that stoops his throne That dust and worms may see't, And brings a glimpse of glory down Around his sacred feet.
3 When Christ, with all his graces crown'd, Sheds his kind beams abroad, 'Tis a young heaven on earthly ground, And glory in the bud.
4 A blooming paradise of joy In this wild desert springs; And every sense I straight employ On sweet celestial things.
5 White lilies all around appear, And each his glory shows; The rose of Sharon blossoms here, The fairest flower that blows.
6 Cheerful I feast on heavenly fruit, And drink the pleasures down, Pleasures that flow hard by the foot Of the eternal throne.]
7 But ah! how soon my joys decay, How soon my sins arise, And snatch the heavenly scene away From these lamenting eyes!
8 When shall the time, dear Jesus, when The shining day appear, That I shall leave those clouds of sin, And guilt and darkness here?
9 Up to the fields above the skies My hasty feet would go, There everlasting flowers arise, And joys unwithering grow.