Now in the galleries of his grace

Verse 1

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!"

Verse 2

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.

Verse 3

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.

Verse 4

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.

Verse 5

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.