Hail, migh­ty Je­sus! how di­vine
Is Thy vic­to­ri­ous sword!
The stout­est re­bel must re­sign
At Thy com­mand­ing word.

How deep the wounds these ar­rows give!
They pierce the hard­est heart.
The smiles of grace the slain re­vive,
And joy suc­ceeds the smart.

Still gird Thy sword up­on Thy thigh;
Ride with ma­jes­tic sway;
Go forth, great Prince, tri­um­phant­ly,
And make Thy foes ob­ey.

And when Thy vic­to­ries are com­plete—
When all the chos­en race
Shall round the throne of glo­ry meet
To sing Thy con­quer­ing grace—

O may my hum­ble soul be found
Among that glo­ri­ous throng;
And I with them Thy praise will sound
In Hea­ven’s im­mor­tal song.