2 Here’s love and grief beyond degree! The Lord of glory dies for men! But, lo! what sudden joys we see— Jesus the dead revives again! 3 The rising Lord forsakes the tomb! (The tomb in vain forbids his rise!) Cherubic legions guard him home, And shout him welcome to the skies! 4 Break off your tears, you saints, and tell How high our great Deliverer reigns; Sing how he spoiled the hosts of hell, And led the monster Death in chains. 5 Say, “Live for ever, wondrous King! Born to redeem, and strong to save!” Then ask the monster, “Where’s thy sting? And where’s thy victory, boasting grave?” 173 C. M. His condescension. And did the holy and the just, The Sovereign of the skies, Stoop down to wretchedness and dust That guilty man might rise? 2 Yes, the Redeemer left his throne, His radiant throne on high; Surpassing mercy! love unknown! To suffer, bleed, and die. 3 He took the dying rebel’s place, And suffered in our stead; For sinful man, O wondrous grace! For sinful man he bled! 4 O Lord! what heavenly wonders dwell In thy most precious blood? By this are sinners saved from hell, And rebels brought to God. 174 C. M. He conquered when he fell. We sing the Saviour’s wondrous death— He conquered when he fell: ’Tis finished, said his dying breath, And shook the gates of hell. 2 ’Tis finished, our Immanuel cries, The dreadful work is done; Hence shall his sovereign throne arise, His kingdom is begun. 3 His cross a sure foundation laid For glory and renown, When through the regions of the dead He passed to reach the crown. 4 Raise your devotion, mortal tongues, His praises to record; Sweet be the accents of your songs To your victorious Lord. 5 Bright angels, strike your loudest strings, Your sweetest voices raise; Let heaven and all created things Sound our Immanuel’s praise! 175 C. M. They nailed him to the cross. Behold the Saviour of mankind Nailed to the shameful tree! How vast the love that him inclined To bleed and die for me! 2 Hark! how he groans, while nature shakes, And earth’s strong pillars bend! The temple’s vail asunder breaks, The solid marbles rend. 3 ’Tis finished! now the ransom’s paid, “Receive my soul!” he cries: See—how he bows his sacred head! He bows his head and dies! 4 But soon from death he’ll rise again, And in full glory shine; O Lamb of God! was ever pain— Was ever love like thine? 176 C. M. The dying penitent.