1 O LORD, how does Thy mercy throw
Its guardian shadow o'er us,
Preserving while we're here below,
Safe to the rest before us.
2 As weaker than a bruised reed,
We cannot do without Thee;
We want Thee here each hour of need,
Shall want Thee too in glory.
3 And though our efforts now to praise
Are often cold and lowly,
A nobler, sweeter song we'll raise
With all Thy saints in glory.
4 We'll lay our trophies at Thy feet,
We'll worship and adore Thee,
Whose precious blood has made us meet
To dwell with Thee in glory.
