Glory to God That Walks the Sky

Glory to God that walks the sky

And sends His bless­ings through;

That tells His saints of joys on high

And gives a taste be­low.

Glory to God that stoops His throne

That dust and worms may see’t

And brings a glimpse of glo­ry down

Around His sac­red feet.

When Christ

with all His grac­es crowned

Sheds His kind beams abroad

’Tis a young Heav’n on earth­ly ground

And glo­ry in the bud.

A bloom­ing para­dise of joy

In this wild des­ert springs;

And ev­ery sense I straight em­ploy

On sweet ce­les­ti­al things.

White li­lies all around ap­pear

And each His glo­ry shows:

The Rose of Sha­ron blos­soms here

The fair­est flow­er that blows.

Cheerful I feast on heav’n­ly fruit

And drink the plea­sures down;

Pleasures that flow hard by the foot

Of the eter­nal throne.

But ah! how soon my joys de­cay!

How soon my sins arise

And snatch the heav’n­ly scene away

From these la­ment­ing eyes!

When shall the time

dear Je­sus

when

The shin­ing day ap­pear

That I shall leave these clouds of sin

And guilt and dark­ness here?

Up to the fields ab­ove the skies

My has­ty feet would go;

There ev­er­last­ing flow­ers arise

And joys un­wi­ther­ing grow.