Come tune, ye saints, your noblest strains,
Your dying, rising Lord to sing,
And echo to the heavenly plains
The triumphs of your Saviour-King.
In songs of grateful rapture tell
How he subdu’d your potent foes,
Subdu’d the powers of Death and Hell,
And, dying, finish’d all your woes.
Then to his glorious throne on high
Return’d, while hymning angels round,
Through the bright arches of the sky,
The God, the conquering God, resound.
Almighty love! victorious power!
Not angel-tongues can e’er display
The wonders of that dreadful hour,
The joys of that illustrious day.
Then well may mortals try in vain,
In vain their feeble voices raise;
Yet Jesus hears the humble strain,
And kindly owns our wish to praise.
Dear Saviour, let thy wonderous grace
Fill every heart and every tongue,
Till the full glories of thy face
Inspire a sweeter, nobler song.
Collection of Hymns Adapted to Public Worship, no. 102 (all stanzas); 1780, vol. 1, pp. 184-5; MS, Steele Collection, Angus Library, Regents Park College, STE 3/1/1 no. 104; also Nonconformist Women Writers, vol. 1, pp. 157-58.