Holy Holy Holy

A hymn of unbroken adoration, the lyric circles the word "holy" like a bell rung over and over, refusing to move past it. Morning is the chosen hour — the singer's song rises early, as if praise is the first work of the day — and the address stays fixed on the Almighty, merciful yet mighty, named as three persons in one blessed Trinity. The middle stanza turns honest about distance: darkness can hide God, and sinful eyes may fail to catch His glory, yet the confession that follows is not despair but clarity — only Thou art holy, none beside Thee, perfect in power, love, and purity. The final stanza widens the choir until earth, sky, and sea all praise the same name, returning to the opening lines so the song ends where it began, as though the repetition itself were the point. There is no petition here, no story of rescue or personal testimony, just sustained reverence and a Trinitarian frame held steady across every verse. The effect is less a narrative than a posture: praise offered before anything else, in full awareness of human limitation, and joined to the whole created order.