Isaac Watts

Hymn 89

 Next Poem          

Christ's victory over Satan.

Hosannah to our conquering King!
The prince of darkness flies;
His troops rush headlong down to hell,
Like lightning from the skies.

There, bound in chains, the lions roar,
And fright the rescued sheep;
But heavy bars confine their power
And malice to the deep.

Hosannah to our conquering King!
All hail, incarnate love!
Ten thousand songs and glories wait
To crown thy head above.

Thy victories and thy deathless fame
Through the wide world shall run,
And everlasting ages sing
The triumphs thou hast won.

Next Poem 

 Back to
Isaac Watts