In Uzziah’s death, when Judah’s sceptre fell,
I saw the Lord upon His throne on high,
Exalted far above where mortals dwell,
His flowing train of glory filled the sky.
The temple glowed with uncreated light,
Where seraphim stood burning, pure and bright.

Six wings each flaming seraph bore in state:
With two he veiled his face from glory’s blaze,
With two he hid his feet in reverent wait,
With two he flew through heaven’s endless maze.
One cried to one in voices like the sea,
“Holy, holy, holy, Lord of Hosts is He!

”Thrice rang the cry through courts of crystal fire,
“Holy!”—each note a sun that pierced the night;
“The whole earth swells with glory’s vast empire,
From ocean deep to mountain’s crown of light.”
The doorposts shook as thunder filled the dome,
And clouds of incense veiled the eternal throne.

When earthly kings to silent dust descend,
The King eternal reigns in robes of flame;
His hem alone makes every realm bend,
And all creation sings His matchless name.

This selfsame Christ, whose glory fills the skies,
Desires to dwell within each heart that cries
In true repentance, placing faith in Him—
Hallelujah! What a Savior! Let all praise begin.