And eve’s still lamps, that woo repose?
2 And shall not he the chorus swell,
Whose form the incarnate Godhead wore,
Whose guilt, whose fears, whose triumph tell
How deep the wounds his Saviour bore?
3 Long as yon glittering arch shall bend,
Long as yon orbs in glory roll,
Long as the streams of life descend
To cheer with hope the fainting soul,
4 Thy praise shall fill each grateful voice,