What finite power, with ceaseless toil

Verse 1

What finite power, with ceaseless toil, Can fathom the eternal Mind? Or who th' almighty Three in One By searching, to perfection find?

Verse 2

Angels and men in vain may raise, Harmonious their adoring songs; The laboring thought sinks down, opprest, And praises die upon their tongues.

Verse 3

Yet would I lift my trembling voice A portion of his ways to sing; And mingling with his meanest works, My humble, grateful tribute bring.