Verse 1
Drawn by thy messengers’ report,
I hearken, Lord, to thee:
But O! Their word how faint, how short
Of what I hear and see!
True Son of David, I confess
Thou far exceed’st the fame:
Not angel-tongues could half express
The wonders of thy name.
Verse 2
What wisdom from thy lips distils,
So full of glorious grace!
The glory all thy houshold fills
Reflected from thy face:
Thy charms the seraphs’ thought transcend,
And dazzle all above,
For only saints can comprehend
The mystery of thy love.