Sunday Hymn: Glorious Things of Thee Are Spoken

Glorious things of thee are spok­en,
Zion, ci­ty of our God!
He, whose word can­not be brok­en,
Formed thee for His own ab­ode.
On the Rock of Ag­es found­ed,
What can shake thy sure re­pose?
With sal­va­tion’s walls sur­round­ed,
Thou may’st smile at all thy foes.

See! the streams of liv­ing wa­ters,
Springing from eter­nal love;
Well sup­ply thy sons and daugh­ters,
And all fear of want re­move:
Who can faint while such a riv­er
Ever flows their thirst t’as­suage?
Grace, which like the Lord, the giv­er,
Never fails from age to age.

Round each ha­bi­ta­tion hov­er­ing,
See the cloud and fire ap­pear!
For a glo­ry and a cov­er­ing
Showing that the Lord is near.
Thus de­riv­ing from our ban­ner
Light by night and shade by day;
Safe they feed up­on the man­na
Which He gives them when they pray.

Blest in­ha­bi­tants of Zi­on,
Washed in the Re­deem­er’s blood!
Jesus, whom their souls re­ly on,
Makes them kings and priests to God.
’Tis His love His peo­ple rais­es,
Over self to reign as kings,
And as priests, His so­lemn prais­es
Each for a thank of­fer­ing brings.

Savior, if of Zi­on’s ci­ty,
I through grace a mem­ber am,
Let the world de­ride or pi­ty,
I will glo­ry in Thy name:
Fading is the world­ling’s plea­sure,
All his boast­ed pomp and show;
Solid joys and last­ing trea­sure
None but Zi­on’s child­ren know.

—John Newton