Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity

Resting on Thy footstool. Lord!
Looking upward to Thy throne.
Treasuring each tender word
Thou dost utter to Thine own;
Thine unseen perfections rare
Imaging from things we see;
If Thy footstool be so fair,
O, how bright Thy throne must be!

Awful and invisible!
Girt with clouds and veil'd in light.
Great Creator! Who dost dwell
Far beyond the reach of sight:
Blessed be the kindly share
Of Thy light which falls on me;
If Thy footstool be so fair,
O, how bright Thy throne must be!

Low in heart from all my sin.
High in hope from all Thy love,
Still without, yet from within
Catching those soft gleams, that move
Round about me everywhere.
Filling all the world with Thee;
If Thy footstool be so fair,
O, how bright Thy throne must be!

Mighty God, who didst victorious
Rise unto Thy throne again.
And the place of Thy feet glorious
Didst in mercy make for men:
Thee to follow be my care,
And my prize Thy face to see.
Learning on Thy footstool fair
Fitness for Thy throne and Thee.