Ye seraphs shout it from the sky!

’Tis the rich gift of love divine;

’Tis full—outmeasuring every crime;

Unclouded shall its glories shine,

And feel no change by changing time.

For this stupendous love of heaven,

What grateful honour shall we shew?

Where much transgression is forgiven,

Let love with equal ardour glow.

Cheered by the hope of pardoning grace,