Prone Antique Vase with Zinnias and My God, my Portion, and my Love with Look, ye saints, the sight is glorious

  My God, my Portion, and my Love,
  My everlasting All,
I’ve none but thee in heaven above,
  Or on this earthly ball.

  What empty things are all the skies,
  And this interior clod!
There’s nothing here deserves my joys,
  There’s nothing like my God.

  To thee I owe my wealth, and friends,
  And health, and safe abode:
Thanks to thy name for meaner things;
  But they are not my God.

  How vain a toy is glittering wealth,
  If once compared to thee!
Or what’s my safety, or my health,
  Or all my friends to me?

  Were I possessor of the earth,
  And called the stars my own,
Without thy graces and thyself,
  I were a wretch undone.

  Let others stretch their arms like seas
  And grasp in all the shore;
Grant me the visits of thy grace,
  And I desire no more.

Isaac WattsLook, ye saints, the sight is glorious;
See the “Man of sorrows” now;
From the fight return’d victorious,
Ev’ry knee to Him shall bow.

Crown the Saviour, angels, crown Him;
Rich the trophies Jesus brings;
In the seat of pow’r enthrone Him,
While the vault of heaven rings.

Sinners in derision crown’d Him,
Mocking thus the Saviour’s claim;
Saints and angels crowd around Him,
Own His title, praise His name.

Hark! the bursts of acclamation!
Hark! these loud triumphant chords;
Jesus takes the highest station,
Oh, what joy the sight affords.

Refrain
Crown Him, crown Him, angels crown Him,
Crown the Saviour “King of kings;"
Crown Him, crown Him, angels crown Him,
Crown the Saviour “King of kings.”

Rev. Thos. Kelly