Classic Poem

HYMN XLVIII.

Thou hast o'ercome: Lord, who can prove
Invincible to heav'nly love?
My conquer'd soul I must resign
To that victorious arm of thine.

Thy grace, whose wond'rous pow'r imparts
The tend'rest sense to flinty hearts,
My inmost soul with love inspires,
And mixes joy with pure desires.

For who, my Lord, can love like thee?
Whose love was e'er so great, so free?
Angels may well admire the flame:
But they have never felt the same:

Nor men whom nature has ally'd,
Or strictest bonds of friendship ty'd.
Who ever did his life expose,
To ransom his ungrateful foes?

But thou, O Son of God, didst take
Frail human nature for our sake;
The griefs of human life didst try,
And on a cross for rebels die.

This offering well deserves that we
Should sacrifice ourselves to thee;
And where we owe so vast a debt,
To pay our homage ne'er forget.

To thee, in whom we live and move,
We give our praise, we give our love:
To thee, on whom our sins were laid,
Whose blood was for our pardon paid.

To thee, who mak'st us priests and kings;
Priests to attend on holy things,
And kings to reign with thee above,
In realms of bliss and endless love.