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Trembling Before Thy Awful Throne

 

 

 

Trembling before Thine awful throne,
O Lord, in dust my sins I own;
justice and mercy for my life
contend; O smile, and heal the strife.

The Savior smiles; upon my soul
new tides of hope tumultuous roll;
His voice proclaims my pardon found,
seraphic transport wings the sound.

Earth has a joy unknown to Heaven,
the newborn peace of sins forgiven;
tears of such pure and deep delight,
ye angels, never dimmed your sight.

Bright heralds of the eternal Will,
abroad His errands ye fulfill;
or, throned in floods of beamy day,
symphonious in His presence play.

Loud is the song, the heavenly plain
is shaken with the choral strain;
and dying echoes, floating far,
draw music from each chiming star.

But I amid your choirs shall shine,
and all your knowledge shall be mine:
ye on your harps must lean to hear
a secret chord that mine will bear.

Augustus L. Hillhouse


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