I. Come tune, ye saints, your noblest strains,
Your dying, rising Lord to sing,
And echo to the heav’nly plains
The triumphs of your Saviour-King.

II. In songs of grateful reapture tell
How he subdu’d your potent foes,
Subdu’d the pow’rs of death and hell,
And, dying, finish’d all your woes.

III. Then to his glorious throne on high
Return’d, while hymning angels round,
Thro’ the bright arches of the sky,
The God, the conqu’ring God, resound.

IV. Almighty love! victorious pow’r!
Not angel-tongues can e’er display
The wonders of that dreadful hour,
The joys of that illustrious day.

V. Then well may mortals try in vain,
In vain their feeble voices raise;
Yet Jesus hears the humble strain,
And kindly owns our wish to praise.

VI. Dear Saviour, let thy wond’rous grace
Fill ev’ry heart and ev’ry tongue,
Till the full glories of thy face
Inspire a sweeter, nobler song.

Added by

Blessy Christlin


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