On the throne sits He above,
Before Him, the cherubim stand,
Where in awe they prostrate and bow
To Him who sits on the thrown.

Oh lord, who shines as your glory?
Who can stand the light of your presence?
There's none that can boast of these things,
For overwhelmed is the one to whom your glory is revealed.

From you, Lord, comes the wind of life
That I inhale to my soul renew,
Heartening to my heart are the words of your mouth,
And to them evermore shall I cling.

On the throne sits He above,
Before Him, the Cherubim stand,
Where in awe they prostrate and bow
To Him who sits on the thrown.

Oh Lord, the mighty fortress I know,
Before you bow the twenty-four heavenly elders,
As they proclaim in one accord your goodness:
Holy, holy, holy is He who sits on the throne.

I lift my eyes in glorious delight;
I wave my hands with unrelenting zeal;
My voice I let out as the sound of trumpets,
To worship you until I transcend mortality to your glory.

I'm not ashamed to proclaim the good news
That in you, oh GREAT I AM, life abounds
And there's no other way to life-eternal but by you.
Therefore I beseech the ends of the earth to come and live.

On the throne sits He above,
Before Him, the Cherubim stand,
Where in awe they prostrate and bow
To Him who sits on the thrown.