Praise to the Heavenly Wisdom

Praise to the heav­en­ly Wis­dom

Who knows the hearts of all—

The saint­ly life’s be­gin­nings

The trai­tor’s sec­ret fall;

Our own as­cend­ed Mas­ter

Who heard His Church’s cry

Made known His guid­ing pre­sence

And ruled her from on high.

Elect in His fore­knowl­edge

To fill the lost one’s place;

He formed His chos­en ves­sel

By hid­den gifts of grace;

Then

by the lot’s dis­pos­ing

He lift­ed up the poor

And set him with the princ­es

On high for ev­er­more.

For on the gold­en breast­plate

Of our great priest above

Twelve are the stones that glist­en

And throbs that heart of love;

And twelve the fair found­ations

Of Sa­lem’s jas­per wall;

And twelve the thrones pre­des­tined

Within her judg­ment hall.

No mys­tic gem is lack­ing

In that di­vine ar­ray;

No emp­ty throne shall dark­en

The glo­ry of that day;

For lo! on twelve the Spir­it

The Fa­ther’s pro­mise

came;

And twelve went forth to­ge­ther

To preach the sav­ing name.

Still guide Thy Church

Chief Shep­herd

Her loss­es still re­new;

Be Thy dread keys en­trust­ed

To faith­ful hands and true;

Apostles of Thy choos­ing

May all her rul­ers be

That each with joy may ren­der

His last ac­count to Thee!