Now to the Lord, That Makes Us Know

Now to the Lord

that makes us know

The won­ders of His dy­ing love

Be hum­ble hon­ors paid be­low

And strains of nob­ler praise ab­ove.

’Twas He that cleansed our foul­est sins

And washed us in His rich­est blood;

’Tis He that makes us priests and kings

And brings us re­bels near to God.

To Je­sus

our aton­ing priest

To Je­sus

our su­pe­ri­or king

Be ev­er­last­ing pow­er con­fessed

And ev­ery tongue His glo­ry sing.

Behold

on fly­ing clouds He comes

And ev­ery eye shall see Him move;

Though with our sins we pierced Him once

Then He dis­plays His par­don­ing love.

The un­be­liev­ing world shall wail

While we re­joice to see the day:

Come

Lord; nor let Thy pro­mise fail

Nor let Thy cha­ri­ots long de­lay.