1 Hosanna to the Prince of Light, That cloth'd himself in clay, Enter'd the iron gates of death, And tore the bars away.
2 Death is no more the king of dread Since our Immanuel rose, He took the tyrant's sting away, And spoil'd our hellish foes.
3 See how the Conqueror mounts aloft, And to his Father flies, With scars of honour in his flesh, And triumph in his eyes.
4 There our exalted Saviour reigns, And scatters blessings down, Our Jesus fills the middle seat Of the celestial throne.
5 [Raise your devotion, mortal tongues, To reach his bless'd abode, Sweet be the accents of your songs To our incarnate God.
6 Bright angels, strike your loudest strings, Your sweetest voices raise, Let heaven, and all created things, Sound our Immanuel's praise.]