Nature with open volume stands,
To
spread its maker’s praise abroad;
And
every labor of His hands
Show
something worthy of our God.
2
But
in the grace that rescued us
His
brightest form of glory shines;
'Tis
fairest drawn upon the cross
In
precious blood and crimson lines
3
Here
His whole name appears complete.
Nor
wit can guess nor reason prove,
Which
of the letters best is writ,
The
pow’r, the wisdom, or the love
4
We
would forever speak His name
In
sound to mortal ears unknown,
With
angels join to praise the Lamb,
And
worship at His Father’s throne.