Oh, sweetly breathe the lyres above,
When angels touch the quivering string,
And wake, to chant Immanuel’s love,
Such strains as angel lips can sing.

And sweet, on earth, the choral swell,
From mortal tongues, of gladsome lays;
When pardoned souls their raptures tell,
And, grateful hymn Immanuel’s praise.

Jesus, Thy name our souls adore;
We own the bond that makes us Thine;
And carnal joys, that charmed before,
For Thy dear sake we now resign.

Our hearts, by dying love subdued,
Accept Thine offered grace today;
Beneath the cross, with blood bedewed,
We bow, and give ourselves away.

In Thee we trust—on Thee rely;
Though we are feeble, Thou art strong;
Oh keep us till our spirits fly
To join the bright immortal throng.