All Praise to God on High

All praise to God on high

Who sets His heart on man

And beck­ons from the sky

And bids him turn again

Gathers un­to Him­self his breath

And bless­es by an ear­ly death.

E’en now His arms re­ceive

The spir­it of my child;

He gave him to be­lieve

He showed him re­con­ciled

Cut short the sud­den work of grace

And caught him up to see His face.

The hal­low­ing Spir­it’s pray­er

Breathed from his sprin­kled heart

And cried

The new­born heir

Is rea­dy to de­part!

And bless­ings on his friends ap­prove

The faith that sweet­ly works by love.

His faith is lost in sight

His pray­ers are lost in praise

Amidst the saints in light

He sings the Sav­ior’s grace

Which strange­ly kept his con­science clean

Unspotted in a world of sin.

So ear­ly to re­move

And quit the vale of tears

A mi­ra­cle of love

Throughout the ear­ly years

Preserved his sac­red in­no­cence

And snatched him un­cor­rupt­ed hence.

Who kept his gar­ments white

Hath called him to a crown

And lo! from Si­on’s height

The hap­py soul looks down

Beyond the range of friends re­moved

Took from a world he nev­er loved.

He can­not love it now

Or feel its pois­on­ing pow­er

To Sa­tan’s im­age bow

Whom all man­kind ad­ore

Worship the learned

or scar­let beast

Or seek in crea­ture good his rest.

Nor plea­sure soft can soothe

His un­sus­pect­ing heart

Or tempt his heed­less youth

From Je­sus to de­part

Nor gran­deur turn his steps aside

That state­ly lit­tle­ness of pride!

He can­not now as­pire

With a ma­li­ci­ous joy

(While en­vi­ous pas­sions fire

The fond

ap­plaud­ed boy)

Or cloak his hon­or­able shame

With emu­la­tion’s spe­cious name.

Ambition in his breast

Shall nev­er

nev­er glow;

In garb an­gel­ic dressed

And dei­fied be­low

It is­sued from the dark abodes

The glo­ri­ous fault of dev­il gods!

The soul su­pe­ri­or soars

To Heav’n’s un­fold­ing scene

The ev­er­last­ing doors

Receive the strang­er in.

And an­gels hail the new­born heir

And kin­dred saints sa­lute him there.

A roy­al co­ro­net

Upon his head they place

With stars of glo­ry set

And pearls of heav’n­ly grace;

They robe him in the milk-white vest

And deck him for the mar­ri­age feast.

They bring his gold­en lyre

And lo! he strikes the strings

Amidst th’an­gel­ic choir

The song of Mo­ses sings

Th’an­gel­ic choir

trans­port­ed prove

Diviner joys

and strong­er love.

He lives to die no more

He reigns ab­ove the sky

And I the bless­ing bore

A joy­ful mo­ther I

My dar­ling son have free­ly giv’n

T’exalt the hap­pi­ness of Heav’n.