I’ll speak the honors of my King,
His form divinely fair;
None of His sons of mortal race
May with the Lord compare.

Sweet is Thy speech, and heav’nly grace
Upon Thy lips is shed;
Thy God, with blessings infinite,
Hath crowned Thy sacred head.

Gird on Thy sword, victorious Prince,
Ride with majestic sway;
Thy terrors shall strike through Thy foes,
And make the world obey.

Thy throne, O God, for ever stands;
Thy word of grace shall prove
A peaceful scepter in Thy hands,
To rule the saints by love.

Justice and truth attend Thee still,
But mercy is Thy choice;
And God, Thy God, Thy soul shall fill
With most peculiar joys.