The 1 hour 52 minutes live recorded 12 track album by Nathaniel Bassey, featuring Sunmisola, Nessa Asuakoh, Aidee, and Chimdi Ochei, is nothing short of heaven on earth. “The Glory of His Presence“ goes beyond being a live album. It is a documented worship journey, one that captures moments where music yields to presence and structure gives way to glory. Listening through feels like sitting inside a sacred gathering rather than engaging a curated playlist.
The album opens with King Eternal, co written by Nathaniel Bassey and Apostle Selman as credited on Spotify, and it immediately establishes the spiritual gravity of the project. Apostle Selman is widely recognised as one of the most influential Christian teachers of this generation, known for his strong emphasis on accurate doctrine, intimacy with God, and reverence in worship. As the founder of Eternity Network International and the convener of the Koinonia gatherings, his ministry has consistently centred on helping believers understand God through Scripture and sustained encounters, not emotional expression alone.
That theological posture is clearly reflected in the lyrical content of King Eternal. The song avoids vague worship language and instead centres on precise attributes of God, His eternality, invisibility, wisdom, and dominion. These are not casual phrases. They reflect a revelatory depth that aligns strongly with Apostle Selman’s teaching emphasis, where worship is first a response to revelation. His contribution as a co writer helps anchor the song in truth, giving it priestly weight and setting a doctrinal foundation that frames the rest of the album. Nathaniel Bassey does not rush the opening. The hum that introduces the song feels intentional, almost like a priestly call to attention. Beginning the album this way sets the tone clearly. This is a call for the King to arrive. When the instruments pause, leaving only drums and claps, the atmosphere thickens. At that point, it is no longer about melody but about awareness. The trumpet blast that later slows the tempo feels ceremonial, gently sealing the moment and ushering listeners deeper.
Oluwa follows with a freer expression of celebration. Nathaniel’s repeated declaration that Jesus is sweet carries a joyful simplicity that feels genuine and unforced. The live audience engagement is strong and audible, reinforcing the communal nature of the worship. Sunmisola features on this track, and while her contribution feels restrained and does not fully stretch within the song, it does not disrupt the flow. The crowd becomes an instrument, and when the music drops to create space, it reinforces a recurring theme across the album. Worship here is not hurried. Silence is allowed to speak.
That space leads naturally into In Your Presence. Holy, holy, God Almighty, who was and is to come. You have made us for Your pleasure. We give You the glory. This track feels like a settling point, drawing attention away from activity and into stillness. The lyrics lean heavily into Scripture and truth. In Your presence there is fullness of joy unspeakable. At Your right hand there are pleasures forevermore. The repeated hallelujahs feel like spontaneous responses rather than rehearsed lines. When the music fades again and the room is allowed to sit quietly before God, it becomes evident that this album understands the power of lingering. Nathaniel’s brief exhortation about running into God’s presence in moments of distress fits seamlessly here. This song does not push forward. It stays.
Then comes Glory to the Lamb, and the weight of the album intensifies noticeably. This track stands out not just musically but spiritually. After the first verse, Nathaniel Bassey reads Isaiah 53 with deep reverence. The Scripture is not treated as an interlude. It is central. The room shifts as the reality of Christ’s suffering is laid bare. When he declares, “Here is the good news,” the song modulates into another key, and the atmosphere lifts sharply. The first verse focuses on the crucifixion, the pain, the sacrifice. The second verse erupts with resurrection truth, victory, and redemption.
What makes this moment especially striking is its authority. Lines like “He didn’t die so a dirty demon can oppress you” are not artistic flourishes. They are doctrinal declarations spoken with conviction. The congregation responds audibly, and that response pushes the song further into intensity. Nessa Asuakoh’s soft adlibs sit gently within the soundscape, adding texture without distracting from the gravity of the moment. Everything about this track suggests that it was not planned as a highlight. It feels encountered. For those present in the room, this moment must have carried overwhelming weight.
Immediately after, the album continues with the same song but without lyrics. Just music, whistles, and trumpet expressions. This transition feels deliberate and necessary. Later, Nathaniel shared that the team struggled to complete the live recording because of the weight of God’s glory in the room. This instrumental flow feels like evidence of that reality. Words had reached their limit. The music simply carries the moment, allowing listeners to remain and soak in what had just been released.
Forever introduces a lighter but still reverent sound. The gentle jazzy feel, driven by guitar strums, allows worshippers to move while remaining grounded in truth. Declaring allegiance to a kingdom that can never be shaken, the song reinforces spiritual stability without losing its worshipful tone.
Odara follows with a joyful affirmation of God’s goodness, sustaining the celebratory flow. Then comes Come Away, which feels like a deliberate pull back into intimacy. “I come away with You with my life, just to stay with You here alone.” It is a call away from noise, choosing closeness over movement and presence over performance.
From Come Away, which gently draws the listener into His presence, the album flows seamlessly into What a Joy. Here, intimacy gives way to open declaration. Love is no longer implied but clearly expressed. What a joy to be in Your presence. Nowhere else I would rather be. This song reads like a confession of affection and devotion. Sunmisola’s contribution remains subtle, woven through soft adlibs that support the tenderness of the moment rather than dominate it. The atmosphere feels warm, safe, and deeply personal.
The energy rises again with Warrior Song. From the opening sound, it is clear this is a declaration. Drawing from Psalm 92 verse 10, the song speaks boldly of exaltation, anointing, and victory. The instrumentation drives confidence and forward motion, making stillness almost impossible.
Jehovah softens the atmosphere once more with a gentle groove. Nathaniel shares that he asked God for a song he could sing back to Him on his birthday, and that personal context adds depth to the moment. Declaring God as the reason he is still standing, the song feels reflective, grateful, and honest. It is the kind of song that invites gentle movement and quiet gratitude.
The album closes with Our Father, featuring Chimdi Ochei, Rhema Onuoha, and Nessa Asuakoh. The Lord’s Prayer is delivered with unity and reverence, bringing the journey full circle. From calling the King to arrive, to resting in the prayer Jesus Himself taught, the album ends not with volume, but with surrender.
“The Glory of His Presence” is not an album you skim through. It is one you enter, remain in, and return to. A worship experience carefully captured, carrying both musical excellence and spiritual depth, and one that firmly reinforces Nathaniel Bassey’s priestly approach to gospel music.
