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Hymn for the Kingswood Colliers

Glory to God, whose sovereign grace

Hath animated senseless stones,

Call’d us to stand before His face,

And raised us into Abraham’s sons.

The people that in darkness lay,

In sin and error’s deadly shade,

Have seen a glorious Gospel day,

In Jesu’s lovely face display’d.

Thou only, Lord, the work hast done,

And bared Thine arm in all our sight;

Hast made the reprobates Thy own,

And claim’d the outcasts as Thy right.

Thy single arm, Almighty Lord,

To us the great salvation brought;

Thy Word, Thy all-creating Word,

That spake at first the world from nought.

For this the saints lift up their voice,

And ceaseless praise to Thee is given

For this the hosts above rejoice:

We raise the happiness of heaven.

For this, no longer sons of night,

To Thee our thanks and hearts we give

To Thee who call’d us into light,

To Thee we die, to Thee we live.

Suffice that for the season past

Hell’s horrid language fill’d our tongues,

We all Thy words behind us cast,

And loudly sang the drunkard’s songs.

But, O the power of grace Divine!

In hymns we now our voices raise,

Loudly in strange hosannas join,

And blasphemies are turn’d to praise!

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;

Praise Him, all creatures here below;

Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.


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