1 I sing my Saviour's wondrous death; He conquer'd when he fell: _'Tis finish'd_, said his dying breath, And shook the gates of hell.
2 _'Tis finish'd_, 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 thro' the regions of the dead He pass'd to reach the crown.
4 Exalted at his Father's side Sits our victorious Lord; To heaven and hell his hands divide The vengeance or reward.
5 The saints from his propitious eye Await their several crowns, And all the sons of darkness fly The terror of his frowns.