King of glory, King of peace,

I will love thee;

And, that love may never cease,

I will move thee.

Thou hast granted my request,

Thou hast heard me;

Thou didst note my working breast,

Thou hast spared me.

Wherefore with my utmost art,

I will sing thee,

And the cream of all my heart

I will bring thee.

Though my sins against me cried,

Thou didst clear me,

And alone, when they replied,

Thou didst hear me.

Seven whole days, not one in seven,

I will praise thee;

In my heart, though not in heav'n,

I can raise thee.

Small it is, in this poor sort

To enrol thee;

E'en eternity's too short

To extol thee.