1 Let everlasting glories crown Thy head, my Saviour and my Lord; Thy hands have brought salvation down, And writ the blessings in thy word.
2 [What if we trace the globe around, And search from Britain to Japan, There shall be no religion found So just to God, so safe for man.]
3 In vain the trembling conscience seeks Some solid ground to rest upon; With long despair the spirit breaks, Till we apply to Christ alone.
4 How well thy blessed truths agree! How wise and holy thy commands! Thy promises how firm they be! How firm our hope and comfort stands!
5 [Not the feign'd fields of heathenish bliss Could raise such pleasures in the mind; Nor does the Turkish paradise Pretend to joys so well refin'd.]
6 Should all the forms that men devise Assault my faith with treacherous art, I'd call them vanity and lies And bind the gospel to my heart.