1 Jesus, with all thy saints above My tongue would bear her part, Would sound aloud thy saving love, And sing thy bleeding heart.
2 Bless'd be the Lamb, my dearest Lord, Who bought me with his blood, And quench'd his Father's flaming sword In his own vital blood:
3 The Lamb that freed my captive soul From Satan's heavy chains, And sent the lion down to howl Where hell and horror reigns.
4 All glory to the dying Lamb, And never ceasing praise, While angels live to know his Name, Or saints to feel his grace.