What wondrous tale of love and grace,
Faith readeth in the Savior's face
Enthroned in glory now
Things hidden from the curious ear
That hung upon His words down here,
Shine there upon His brow.
Yea, blessed One, we see Thee there,
The Victor's crown is resting where
Once press'd the crown of thorn;
Center and Sun of heaven art Thou,
Who once beneath its wrath did bow,
God's wrath, and human scorn.
'Tis joy to know Thy travail done
Rememb'ring all Thy blood hath won
In righteousness divine,
Thy happy saints look up and praise,
Words fail us fitting song to raise,
For such a love as Thine.
But we can dwell within the bright
Unhinder'd cloudless glory light,
That shineth down from God,
And call to fellow-sinners round
To taste the blessing we have found-
Fruit of that toil and blood.
Oh! 'tis a wondrous blessed tale
That breaks upon earth's trouble wail,
Points rebel souls to heaven:
Tells them the King upon His throne
Loves them-can have them for
His own In righteousness forgiven.
Then tell the wonder through the earth
In homes of sorrow, halls of mirth,
A Savior in the glory-
Yea, sound it in the deaden'd ears
Of travelers through this vale of tears,
That men may hear the story.