O Christ, our joy, to whom is giv’n
A throne o’er all the thrones of Heav’n,
In Thee, whose hand all things ob­ey,
The world’s vain plea­sures pass away.

So, sup­pli­ants here, we seek to win
Thy par­don for Thy peo­ple’s sin,
That, by Thine all pre­vail­ing grace,
Uplifted, we may seek Thy face.

And when, all Heav’n be­neath Thee bowed,
Thou com’st to judg­ment throned in cloud,
Then from our guilt wash out the stain
And give us our lost crowns again.

Be Thou our joy and strong de­fense,
Who art our fu­ture re­com­pense:
So shall the light that springs from Thee
Be ours through all eter­ni­ty.

O ris­en, as­cend­ed Lord,
All praise to Thee let earth ac­cord,
Who art, while end­less ag­es run,
With Fa­ther and with Spir­it One.