Praise to the Saviour. Matt. 21. 9; Ps. 40. 7, 8
I. Watts 11s
1
I long for a concert of heavenly praise,
To Jesus, my God, the omnipotent Son!
My soul should awake in harmonious lays,
Could it tell half the wonders that Jesus has done.
2
I’d sing how he left his own mansions of light,
The robes made of glory that dressed him above,
Yet pleased with his journey and swift in his flight;
He came on the pinions of covenant love!
3
Quick down to the place of our distant abode,
He came, we adore him, to raise us on high;
He came to atone the dread justice of God,
And took up a life to be able to die!
4
All hell and its lions stood roaring around;
His flesh and his spirit with malice they tore,
While oceans of sorrow lay pressing him down,
As vast as the burden of guilt which he bore.
5
Fast bound in the chains of imperious death,
The Infinite Captive a prisoner lay;
The Infinite Captain arose from the earth,
And leaped to the hills of ethereal day!
6
Then mention no more of the vengeance of God,
The lions of hell, and their roaring no more;
We lift up our eyes to his shining abode;
Our loudest hosannas his name shall adore!
7
His conquest is crowned with the honours he won;
Hosanna through all the ethereal groves;
The God and the Man, how he fills up his throne!
How he shines! how he smiles! how he looks! how he loves!
