Classic Poem

HYMN XXXII.

Let all who love our Saviour's name,
That name so full of heav'nly grace,
In songs of triumph spread his fame
Thro ev'ry age, and ev'ry place.

He kindly laid aside his crown,
And robes of awful majesty;
And in a servant's form came down
To bear a cross, and on it die.

With tears, and sweat, and blood imbru'd,
This holy lamb was sacrific'd;
Jeer'd by the barbarous multitude,
And by profaner priests despis'd.

But dying thus, he pluck'd the sting
From death; and rising from the grave,
He triumph'd o'er the mighty king
Of terrors , as a captive slave.

Then to his heav'nly throne was rais'd,
Whence he'll descend again, to be
Thro the whole world ador'd and prais'd
By every tongue, and every knee.

Tho tears, and blood, and spittle here
Clouded, profan'd and marr'd his face,
The mid-day sun is not so clear,
Now 'tis adorn'd with heavenly grace.

Angelick songs his beauties praise,
While, clad in glorious robes of light,
He darts innumerable rays
Around, for mortal eyes too bright.

This glory Adam 's sons partake,
Who once deform'd and odious were;
For that pure blood he shed, can make
A leprous sinner clean and fair.

Our bodies too he will refine;
Vile bodies, under which we groan,
Shall with immortal beauty shine,
Render'd all lovely like his own.