High on His Everlasting Throne

High on His ev­er­last­ing throne

The King of saints His work sur­veys;

Marks the dear souls He calls His own

And smiles on the pe­cul­iar race.

He rests well pleased their toils to see;

Beneath His ea­sy yoke they move;

With all their heart and strength agree

In the sweet la­bor of His love.

His eye the world at once looks thro’

A vast un­cul­ti­vat­ed field!

Mountains and vales

in ghast­ly show

A bar­ren un­couth pros­pect yield.

Cleared of the thorns by hu­man care

A few less hi­de­ous wastes are seen

Yet still they all con­tin­ue bare

And not one spot of earth is green.

See where the serv­ants of their God

A busy mul­ti­tude

ap­pear;

For Je­sus day and night emp­loyed

His her­it­age they toil to clear.

The love of Christ their hearts con­strains

And strength­ens their un­wear­ied hands

The spend their sweat

and blood

and pains

To cul­ti­vate Im­ma­nu­el’s Land.

Alarmed at their suc­cess­ful toil

Satan

and his wild spir­its rage;

They la­bor to tear up and spoil

And blast the ris­ing her­it­age.

In ev­ery wil­der­ness they sow

The seed of death

the car­nal mind

They would not let one vir­tue grow

Or leave one seed of good be­hind.

Yet still the serv­ants of their Lord

Look up

and calm­ly per­sev­ere

Supported by the Mas­ter’s Word

The ad­verse pow­ers they scorn to fear.

Gladly their hap­py work pur­sue:

The la­bor of their hands is seen;

Their hands the face of earth re­new

Diversified with cheer­ful green.

Where’er the faith­ful work­ers turn

The steps of in­dus­try ap­pear

They la­bor the dry wood to burn

They la­bor with in­ces­sant care

The fruits of So­dom to tread down

To root up each ac­curs­èd seed

By Sa­tan and his serv­ants sown

And plant the Gos­pel in its stead.

To dig the ground

they all be­stow

Their lives; from ev­ery sof­tened clod

They ga­ther out the stones

and sow

Th’im­mor­tal see

the Word of God.

They wa­ter it with tears and pray­ers

They long for the re­turn­ing Word;

Happy

if all their pains and cares

Can bring forth fruit to please their Lord.

Jesus their toil de­light­ed sees

Their in­dus­try vouch­safes to crown;

He kind­ly gives the wished in­crease

And sends the pro­mised bless­ing down.

The sap of life

the Spir­it’s pow­ers

He rains in­ces­sant from above;

He all His gra­cious full­ness show­ers

To per­fect their great work of love.

He pros­pers all His serv­ants’ toils:

But of pe­cul­iar grace has chose

A flock

on whom He kind­est smiles

And choic­est bless­ings He be­stows.

Devoted to their com­mon Lord

True fol­low­ers of the bleed­ing Lamb

By God be­loved

by men ab­horred—

And Herrn­hut is the fa­vo­rite name!

Here ma­ny a faith­ful soul is found

With mys­tic pow­er en­dued;

Full of the light of life

and crowned

A king and priest to serve His God.

With flam­ing zeal for Christ they shine

Their body

soul and spir­it give

To Christ their goods and blood re­sign

For Christ they free­ly die and live.

What can we of­fer our good Lord

(Poor no­things!) for His bound­less grace?

Fain would we His great name re­cord

And wor­thi­ly set forth His praise.

Dear ob­ject of our grow­ing love

To whom our more than all we owe

Open the fount­ain from above

And let it our full soul o’er­flow.

So shall our lives Thy pow­er pro­claim

Thy grace for ev­ery sin­ner free

Till all man­kind shall learn Thy name

Shall all stretch out their hands to Thee.

Open a door which earth and hell

May strive to shut

but strive in vain:

Let Thy Word rich­ly in us dwell

And let our gra­cious fruit re­main.

O mul­ti­ply Thy sow­er’s seed!

And fruit we ev­ery hour shall bear;

Throughout the world Thy Gos­pel spread

Thine ev­er­last­ing truth de­clare!

We all in per­fect love re­newed

Shall know the great­ness of Thy pow­er

Stand in the tem­ple of our God

As pil­lars

and go out no more.