I see the mountains, heaven's arch unfold, I see the rivers, groves, and poplars' grace, Though I am unworthy to behold, Yet in this dwells Thy mercy, Lord of space.
There is a place of suffering and pain, No songs are heard, no verses there take flight, This is what I deserve in my domain, For all my mortal sins and endless blight!
For all my senseless wanderings and ways, When I served things instead of humankind, When outwardly I sought to cleanse the stain, Yet left my inner corruption undefined.
But Thou didst come from heaven down to bear Thy cross on Golgotha's hill of woe, The sun itself grew dark in that despair, That I might sing of mercy's sacred flow.
I know Thou comest, Savior, soon to reign, Thou need but send Thy Angels forth once more, And gather all the sinners and the vain, Whom grace has justified forevermore.
Thou gave'st to me the heavens' boundless sphere, And opened vistas wondrous to mine eye! I am unworthy of such gifts so dear, Yet in this mercy, Lord, Thy grace doth lie!
