A Song of Praise to Christ. Phil. 2. 6-11; Rev. 5. 9-13

S. Stennett          148th

Come, every gracious heart,
That loves the Saviour’s name,
Your noblest powers exert,
To celebrate his fame;
Tell all who fear the Lord below,
The debt of love to him you owe.

He left his starry crown,
And laid his robes aside,
On wings of love came down,
And wept, and bled, and died;
What he endured no tongue can tell,
To save our souls from death and hell.

From the dark grave he rose,
The mansion of the dead;
And thence his mighty foes
In glorious triumph led;
Up through the sky the Conqueror rode,
And reigns on high, the Saviour, God.

From thence he’ll quickly come;
His chariots will not stay;
And bear our spirits home,
To realms of endless day.
There shall we see his lovely face,
And ever dwell in his embrace.


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