All Mortal Vanities, Begone

All mor­tal va­ni­ties

be­gone

Nor tempt my eyes

nor tire my ears;

Behold

amidst th’eter­nal throne

A vi­sion of the Lamb ap­pears.

Glory His fleecy robe ad­orns

Marked with the bloody death He bore;

Seven are His eyes

and se­ven His horns

To speak His wis­dom and His pow­er.

Lo! He re­ceives a seal­èd book

From Him that sits up­on the throne;

Jesus

my Lord

pre­vails to look

On dark de­crees and things un­known.

All the as­sem­bling saints around

Fall wor­ship­ing be­fore the Lamb

And in new songs of Gos­pel sound

Address their hon­ors to His name.

The joy

the shout

the har­mo­ny

Flies o’er the ev­er­last­ing hills

Worthy art Thou alone

they cry

To read the book

to loose the seals.

Our voic­es join the heav’n­ly strain

And with trans­port­ing plea­sure sing

Worthy the Lamb that once was slain

To be our teach­er and our king!

His words of pro­phe­cy re­veal

Eternal coun­sels

deep de­signs;

His grace and ven­geance shall ful­fill

The peace­ful and the dread­ful lines.

Thou hast re­deemed our souls from hell

With Thine in­va­lu­able blood;

And wretch­es that did once re­bel

Are now made fa­vo­rites of their God.

Worthy for­ev­er is the Lord

That died for trea­sons not His own

By ev­ery tongue to be ad­ored

And dwell up­on His Fa­ther’s throne!