1 Nature with open volume stands
To spread her Maker's praise abroad,
And every labour of his hands
Shows something worthy of a God.

2 But in the grace that rescued man
His brightest form of glory shines;
Here on the Cross 'tis fairest drawn
In precious blood and crimson lines.

3 Here his whole Name appears complete;
Nor wit can guess, nor reason prove
Which of the letters best is writ,
The Power, the Wisdom, or the Love.

4 O the sweet wonders of that Cross
Where God the Saviour loved and died!
Her noblest life my spirit draws
From his dear wounds and bleeding side.

5 I would for ever speak his Name
In sounds to mortal ears unknown,
With angels join to praise the Lamb,
And worship at his Father's throne.