And bore our sins and pains;
Now, seated on th’ eternal throne,
The God of glory reigns.
His hands the wheels of nature guide
With an unerring skill;
And countless worlds extended wide,
Obey his sovereign will.
While harps unnumbered sound his praise,
In yonder world above;
His saints on earth admire his ways,
And glory in his love.
His righteousness, to faith revealed,
Wrought out for guilty worms,
Affords a hiding place and shield,
From enemies and storms.
This land, through which his pilgrims go,
Is desolate and dry;
But streams of grace from him o’erflow
Their thirst to satisfy.
When troubles, like a burning sun,
Beat heavy on their head;
To this almighty Rock they run,
And find a pleasing shade.
How glorious he! how happy they
In such a glorious friend!
Whose love secures them all the way,
And crowns them at the end.
- John Newton.
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