Lo, the de­stroy­ing an­gel flies
To Pha­raoh’s stub­born land!
The pride and flow­er of Egypt dies
By his vin­dic­tive hand.

He passed the tents of Ja­cob o’er,
Nor poured the wrath di­vine;
He saw the blood on ev­ery door,
And blessed the peace­ful sign.

Thus the ap­point­ed Lamb must bleed,
To break the Egyp­tian yoke;
Thus Is­ra­el is from bond­age freed,
And ’scapes the an­gel’s stroke.

Lord, if my heart were sprin­kled too
With blood so rich as Thine,
Justice no long­er would pur­sue
This guil­ty soul of mine.

Jesus our Pass­ov­er was slain,
And has at once pro­cured
Freedom from Sa­tan’s hea­vy chain,
And God’s av­eng­ing sword.