O Christ, our joy, to Whom is givín
A throne oíer all the thrones of Heavín,
In Thee, Whose hand all things obey,
The worldís vain pleasures pass away.
suppliants here, we seek to win
Thy pardon for Thy peopleís sin,
That, by Thine all prevailing grace,
Uplifted, we may seek Thy face.
And when, all Heavín beneath Thee bowed,
Thou comíst to judgment throned in cloud,
Then from our guilt wash out the stain
And give us our lost crowns again.
Be Thou our joy and strong defense,
Who art our future recompense:
So shall the light that springs from Thee
Be ours through all eternity.
O risen, ascended Lord,
All praise to Thee let earth accord,
Who art, while endless ages run,
With Father and with Spirit One.