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Again, O loving Savior,
the children of thy grace
prepare themselves to seek thee
within thy chosen place.
Our song shall rise to greet thee,
if thou our hearts wilt raise;
if thou our lips wilt open,
our mouth shall show thy praise.
The shining choirs of angels
that rest not day or night,
the crowned and palm-decked martyrs,
the saints arrayed in white,
the happy lambs of Jesus
in pastures fair above--
these all adore and praise him,
whom we too praise and love.
The Church on earth rejoices
to join with these today;
in every tongue and nation
she calls her sons to pray;
across the northern snowfields,
beneath the Indian palms,
she makes the same pure offering,
and sings the same sweet psalms.
Tell out, sweet bells, his praises!
Sing, children, sing his Name!
Still louder and still farther
his mighty deeds proclaim,
till all whom he redeemed
shall own him Lord and King,
till every knee shall worship,
and every tongue shall sing.