1 Glory to God that walks the sky,
And sends His blessings through;
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 crowned,
Sheds His kind beams abroad,
’Tis a young Heav’n 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 heav’nly 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 heav’nly scene away
From these lamenting eyes!

8 When shall the time, dear Jesus, when
The shining day appear,
That I shall leave these 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.