Sinners, re­joice: your peace is made;
Your Sav­ior on the cross hath bled:
Your God, in Je­sus re­con­ciled,
On all His works again hath smiled;
Hath grace through Him and bless­ing giv’n,
To all in earth and all in Heav’n.

Angels re­joice in Je­sus’ grace,
And vie with man’s more fa­vored race;
The blood that did for us atone,
Conferred on them some gift un­known;
Their joy through Je­sus’ pains abounds,
They tri­umph by His glo­ri­ous wounds.

Or, stab­lished and con­firmed by Him
Who did our low­er world re­deem,
Secure they keep their blest es­tate,
Firm on an ev­er­last­ing seat;
Or, raised above them­selves, as­pire,
In bliss im­proved, in glo­ry high­er.

Him they be­held, our con­quer­ing God,
Returned with gar­ments rolled in blood!
They saw, and kin­dled at the sight,
And filled with shouts the realms of light;
With loud­est hal­le­lu­jahs met,
And fell, and kissed His bleed­ing feet.

They saw Him in the courts above.
With all His re­cent prints of love;
The wounds, the blood! they heard its voice,
That height­ened all their high­est joys;
They felt it sprin­kled through the skies,
And shared that bet­ter sac­ri­fice.

Not an­gel tongues can e’er ex­press
The un­ut­ter­able hap­pi­ness;
Nor hu­man hearts can e’er con­ceive
The bliss where­in through Christ they live,
But all your Heav’n, ye glo­ri­ous pow­ers,
And all your God, is doub­ly ours!