1 Jesus, Lord, to Thee we sing,
Thee our Saviour, Priest, and King,
Who our guilt and woes sustain’d,
And the cup of vengeance drain’d:
Now Thou sitt’st enthroned on high,
Crown’d with power and victory;
All Thy foes shall prostrate fall,
Every nation hear Thy call.
2 As at morning’s youthful hour,
Dewdrops gem each leaf and flower,
So, O Lord, our sons unborn,
Shall Thy crowded courts adorn;
Gladly own Thee for their King,
Gladly free-will offerings bring,
Till Thy spreading empire prove
Boundless as Thy wondrous love.