Lord, what is man, lost man, That Thou shouldst be so mindful of him? That the Son of God forsook his glory, His abode, To become a poor, tormented man! The Deity was shrunk into a span, And that for me, O wound'rous love, for me. Reveal, ye glorious spirits, when ye knew The way the Son of God took to renew lost man, Your vacant places to supply; Blest spirits tell, Which did excel, Which was more prevalent, Your joy or your astonishment, That man should be assum'd into the Deity, That for a worm a God should die.
Oh! for a quill, drawn from your wing To write the praises of th'Eternal Love; Oh! for a voice like yours to sing That anthem here, which once you sung above.