1 Our God ascends His lofty throne,
Arrayed in majesty unknown;
His luster all the temple fills,
And spreads over all th’ethereal hills.

2 The holy, holy, holy Lord,
By all the seraphim adored,
And, while they stand beneath His seat,
They veil their faces, and their feet.

3 And can a sinful worm endure
The presence of a God so pure?
Or these polluted lips proclaim
The honors of so grand a name?

4 O for Thine altar’s glowing coal,
To touch my lips, to fire my soul,
To purge the sordid dross away,
And into crystal turn my clay.

5 Then if a messenger Thou ask,
A laborer for the hardest task,
Thro’ all my weakness, and my fear,
Love shall reply, "Thy servant’s here."

6 Nor should my willing soul complain,
Tho’ all its efforts seemed in vain;
It ample recompense shall be,
But to have wrought, my God, for Thee.