A glory gilds the sacred page,
Majestic, like the sun:
It gives a light to every age;
It gives, but borrows none.
The hand that gave it still supplies
The gracious light and heat:
Its truths upon the nations rise;
They rise, but never set.
Let everlasting thanks be Thine
For such a bright display,
As makes a world of darkness shine
With beams of heavenly day.
My soul rejoices to pursue
The steps of Him I love,
Till glory breaks upon my view
In brighter worlds above!