I'll speak the honors of my King

I'll speak the honors of my King,
His form divinely fair;
None of his sons of mortal race
May with the Lord compare.

Sweet is thy speech, and heav'nly grace
Upon thy lips is shed;
Thy God, with blessings infinite,
Hath crowned thy sacred head.

Gird on thy sword, victorious Prince,
Ride with majestic sway;
Thy terrors shall strike through thy foes,
And make the world obey.

Thy throne, O God, for ever stands;
Thy word of grace shall prove
A peaceful sceptre in thy hands,
To rule the saints by love.

Justice and truth attend thee still,
But mercy is thy choice;
And God, thy God, thy soul shall fill
With most peculiar joys.