Father, to Thee a joyful song we raise
|Father, to Thee a joyful song we raise
With all Thine own;
And in Thy presence sound a note of praise
To Thee alone;
Bro’t nigh, bro’t home to Thee—O wondrous grace,
That gives us now with Thine own Son our place.
|How deep the holy joy that fills that scene,
Where love is known!
Thy love, our God and Father, now is seen,
In Him alone;
As, in the holy calm of Thine own rest,
He leads the praise of those Thy love has blessed.
|He leads the praise! How precious to Thine ear
The song He sings!
How precious, too, to Thee—how near, how dear
Are those He brings
To share His place: ’twas thus that Thou didst plan;
Thou lovedst Him before the world began.