A Song of Praise to Christ

Come, every pious heart,

That loves the Saviour’s name,

Your noblest powers exert

To celebrate his fame;

Tell all above, and all below,

That 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, oh, who can tell,

To save our souls from death and hell?

From the dark grave he rose,

The mansions 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.

Jesus, we ne’er can pay

The debt we owe thy love;

Yet tell us how we may

Our gratitude approve;

Our hearts, our all to thee we give,--

The gift, though small, thou wilt receive.