1 Creator of the world, to thee
an endless rest of joy belongs;
and heavenly choirs are ever free
to sing on high their festal songs.

2 But we are fallen creatures here,
where pain and sorrow daily come;
and how can we in exile drear
sing out, as they, sweet songs of home?

3 O Father, who dost promise still
that they who mourn shall blessèd be,
grant us to weep for deeds of ill
that banish us so long from thee:

4 but, weeping, grant us faith to rest
in hope upon thy loving care;
till thou restore us, with the blest,
their songs of praise in heaven to share.

5 To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
the God whom heaven and earth adore,
from men and from the angel-host
be praise and glory evermore.