Come, all har­mo­ni­ous tongues,
Your nob­lest mu­sic bring;
’Tis Christ the ev­er­last­ing God,
And Christ the man, we sing.
Tell how He took our flesh,
To take away our guilt;
Sing the dear drops of sac­red blood
That hell­ish mon­sters spilt.

Alas! the cru­el spear
Went deep in­to His side,
And the rich flood of pur­ple gore
Their mur­der­ous wea­pons dyed.
The waves of swell­ing grief
Did o’er His bo­som roll,
And mount­ains of al­migh­ty wrath
Lay hea­vy on His soul.

Down to the shades of death
He bowed His aw­ful head;
Yet He arose to live and reign
When death it­self is dead.
No more the bloody spear,
The cross and nails no more;
For hell it­self shakes at His name,
And all the heav’ns adore.

There the Re­deem­er sits
High on the Fa­ther’s throne;
The Fa­ther lays His ven­geance by,
And smiles up­on His Son.
There His full glo­ries shine
With un­cre­at­ed rays,
And bless His saints and an­gels’ eyes
To ev­er­last­ing days.