The chorus of a sold out heart,
In multitudes with adoration,
Joining each to their own part,
In open praise and celebration,

Praise to Him enthroned above,
Praise to Him who swoops below,
Who humbles now Himself to us,
Who takes on every feeble frame,
To hang for us and rise our mighty champion.

What a faithful friend,
In pain and mystery,
In time and round each hurling bend,
The fearsome one, fragrant mercy.

Returning to familiar spires,
The open streets and sandy stone,
Frame vibrant passings of long coats,
Which haven't seemed to ever pause,
But translate through the ages past.