Thou God of harmony and love,
Whose name transports the saints above
And lulls the ravished spheres,
On Thee in feeble strains I call,
And join my humble voice with all
The heavenly choristers.

If well I know the tuneful art
To captivate a human heart,
The glory, Lord, be Thine.
A servant of Thy blessed will,
I'd here devote my utmost skill
To sound Thy praise divine.

With Tubal's wretched sons no more
I prostitute my sacred power
To please the flesh beneath,
Or modulate the wanton lay,
Or smooth with music's hand the way
To everlasting death.

Suffice for this the season past:
I come, my God, to learn at last
The lesson of Thy grace.
Teach me the new, the eternal song,
And let my hand, my heart, my tongue,
Move only to Thy praise.

Thine own musician, Lord, inspire,
And let my consecrated lyre
Repeat the psalmist's part;
His Son and Thine reveal in me,
And fill with sacred melody
The fibers of my heart.

Jesus! the Heaven of heavens He is,
The Soul of harmony and bliss:
And while on Him we gaze,
And while His glorious voice we hear,
Our spirits are all eye, all ear,
And silence speaks His praise.

Charles Wesley 1747.