Gazing on the Lord in glo­ry,
While our hearts in wor­ship bow,
There we read the won­drous story
Of the cross—its shame and woe.

Every mark of dark dis­hon­or
Heaped upon the thorn-crowned brow,
All the depths of Thy heart’s sor­row
Told in an­swer­ing glo­ry now.

On that cross alone—for­sak­en—
Where no pi­ty­ing eye was found;
Now to God’s right hand ex­alt­ed,
With Thy praise the heav’ns re­sound.

Did Thy God e’en then for­sake Thee,
Hide His face from Thy deep need?
In Thy face, once marred and smit­ten,
All His glo­ry now we read.

Gazing on it we adore Thee,
Blessèd, pre­cious, ho­ly Lord;
Thou, the Lamb, alone art wor­thy:
This be earth’s and Heav’n’s ac­cord.

Rise, our hearts, and bless the Fa­ther,
Ceaseless song e’en here be­gun,
Endless praise and ado­ra­tion
To the Fa­ther and the Son.