141. L. M. 6l. W. Ray.
Perfection of God.
1Thou art, almighty Lord of all,
From everlasting still the same;
Before thee dazzling seraphs fall,
And veil their faces in a flame,
To see such bright perfections glow--
Such floods of glory from thee flow.
2What mortal hand shall dare to paint
A semblance of thy glory, Lord?
The brightest rainbow-tints are faint;
The brightest stars of heaven afford
But dim effusions of those rays
Of light that round Jehovah blaze.
3The sun himself is but a gleam,
A transient meteor, from thy throne;
And every frail and fickle beam,
That ever in creation shone,
Is nothing, Lord, compared to thee
In thy own vast immensity.
4But though thy brightness may create
All worship from the hosts above,
What most thy name must elevate
Is, that thou art a God of love;
And mercy is the central sun
Of all thy glories joined in one.