Father, to Thee a joyful song we raise

With all Thine own;

And in Thy presence sound a note of praise

To Thee alone;

Bro't nigh, bro't home to Thee — O wondrous grace,

That gives us now with Thine own Son our place.

How deep the holy joy that fills that scene,

Where love is known!

Thy love, our God and Father, now is seen,

In Him alone;

As, in the holy calm of Thine own rest,

He leads the praise of those Thy love has blessed.

He leads the praise! How precious to Thine ear

The song He sings!

How precious, too, to Thee — How near how dear

Are those He brings

To share His place: 'twas thus that Thou didst plan;

Thou lovedst Him before the world began.