Hosanna! raise the peal­ing hymn
To Dav­id’s Son and Lord;
With che­ru­bim and se­ra­phim,
Exalt th’in­car­nate Word.

Hosanna! Lord, our fee­ble tongue
No lof­ty strains can raise:
But Thou wilt not des­pise the young,
Who meek­ly chant Thy praise.

Hosanna! So­ver­eign, Pro­phet, Priest,
How vast Thy gifts—how free!
Thy blood, our life—Thy Word, our feast—
Thy name, our on­ly plea.

Hosanna! Mas­ter, lo! we bring
Our of­fer­ings to Thy throne;
Not gold, nor myrrh, nor mor­tal thing,
But hearts to be Thine own.

Hosanna! once Thy gra­cious ear
Approved a lisp­ing throng:
Be gra­cious still, and deign to hear
Our poor, but grate­ful song.

O Sav­ior! if, re­deemed by Thee
Thy tem­ple we be­hold;
Hosannas, through eter­ni­ty,
We’ll sing to harps of gold!