Text:Hymn 77
Author:Isaac Watts

I.77. Hymn 77

Now in the galleries of his grace
Appears the King, and thus he says,
"How fair my saints are in my sight!
My love how pleasant for delight!"

Kind is thy language, sovereign Lord,
There's heav'nly grace in every word;
From that dear mouth a stream divine
Flows sweeter than the choicest wine.

Such wondrous love awakes the lip
Of saints that were almost asleep,
To speak the praises of thy name,
And makes our cold affections flame.

These are the joys he lets us know
In fields and villages below;
Gives us a relish of his love,
But keeps his noblest feast above.

In Paradise, within the gates,
A higher entertainment waits
Fruits new and old laid up in store,
Where we shall feed, but thirst no more.

Text Information
First Line: Now in the galleries of his grace
Title: Hymn 77
Author: Isaac Watts
Meter: L. M.
Language: English
Publication Date: 1806
Scripture:
Tune Information
(No tune information)



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