Isaac Watts

Hymn 114

 Next Poem          

Christ's death, victory, and dominion.

I sing my Savior's wondrous death,
He conquered when he fell:
"'Tis finished!" said his dying breath,
And shook the gates of hell.

"'Tis finished!" our Immanuel cries,
The dreadful work is done;
Hence shall his sovereign throne arise,
His kingdom is begun.

His cross a sure foundation laid
For glory and renown,
When through the regions of the dead
He passed to reach the crown.

Exalted at his Father's side
Sits our victorious Lord;
To heav'n and hell his hands divide
The vengeance or reward.

The saints, from his propitious eye,
Await their several crowns
And all the sons of darkness fly
The terror of his frowns.

Next Poem 

 Back to
Isaac Watts