All space beyond the soar of angel wings,
Wait on His word: and yet He stays His car
For every sigh a contrite suppliant brings.
He listens to the silent tear
For all the anthems of the boundless sky—
And shall our dreams of music bar our ear
To His soul-piercing voice forever nigh?
Nay, gracious Saviour—but as now
Our thoughts have trac'd Thee to Thy glory-throne,