IW
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 heavenly 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
An higher entertainment waits;
Fruits new and old laid up in store,
Where we shall feed, but thirst no more.
Isaac Watts, “Now in the Galleries of His Grace”