Father, to Thee a joyful song we raise

With all Thine own,

And in Thy presence sound a note of praise

To Thee thus known;

Brought nigh, brought 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,

E'en now begun!

Thy love, our God and Father, now is seen

In Christ the Son,

As, in the holy calm of Thine own rest,

He leads the praise of those Thy love has blest.

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

As loving Him before the world began.