Spake the Glorious Lord in Heaven

Spake the glo­ri­ous Lord in Heav­en

Lord

be Thine this roy­al seat

Till their ar­mies thun­der-riv­en

Bow the neck be­neath Thy feet.

Lo

Thy stan­dards proud­ly flow­ing

Forth they fare the world to win

Reign and pros­per

ov­er­throw­ing

All the lords of death and sin.

God with man

an in­fant ten­der

Of a stain­less maid­en born

Elder than the day-star’s splen­dor

Purer than the pearls of morn

By the eter­nal oath ap­point­ed

Of the mys­tic or­der blest

Thou art vest­ed

throned

anoint­ed

Evermore a king­ly priest.

When the doom of sin is seal­èd

And the trump of judg­ment rings

Darkly at Thy side re­veal­èd

God shall bruise the god­less kings.

Thou shalt judge amongst the hea­then

Thou shalt fill the world with dead;

Never shall Thy sword be sheath­en

Till it smite the apos­tate’s head.

But Thy spell of end­less glo­ry

Is to suf­fer and to die;

Kedron with its bit­ter sto­ry

And the vale of ag­ony.

Honor

bless­ing

vir­tue

mer­it

To the Fa­ther and the Son

And the good and gra­cious Spir­it

While eter­nal ag­es run.