Oh, Sweetly Breathe the Lyres Above

Oh

sweet­ly breathe the lyres ab­ove

When an­gels touch the qui­ver­ing string

And wake

to chant Im­ma­nu­el’s love

Such strains as an­gel lips can sing.

And sweet

on earth

the chor­al swell

From mor­tal tongues

of glad­some lays;

When par­doned souls their rap­tures tell

And

grate­ful hymn Im­ma­nu­el’s praise.

Jesus

Thy name our souls ad­ore;

We own the bond that makes us Thine;

And car­nal joys

that charmed be­fore

For Thy dear sake we now re­sign.

Our hearts

by dy­ing love sub­dued

Accept Thine of­fered grace to­day;

Beneath the cross

with blood be­dewed

We bow

and give our­selves away.

In Thee we trust—on Thee rely;

Though we are fee­ble

Thou art strong;

Oh keep us till our spir­its fly

To join the bright im­mor­tal throng.