Begin, my tongue, the heavenly theme,
Awake, my heart, and sing
The word, unchangeably the same,
Of our eternal king.

Tell of his wondrous faithfulness,
And sound his power abroad;
Sing the sweet promise of his grace,
And the performing god.

Proclaim, "salvation from the lord,
To wretched, dying men:"
His hand hath writ the sacred word
With an immortal pen.

Engraved as in eternal brass,
The mighty promise shines;
Nor can the powers of darkness rase
Those everlasting lines.

Yes, every word of grace is strong
As that which built the skies;
The voice that rolls the stars along
Speaks all the promises.

O, might I hear that heavenly tongue
But whisper, "thou art mine!"
That gracious word should raise my song
To notes almost divine.