’Tis for con­quer­ing kings to gain
Glory o’er their my­ri­ads slain;
Jesus, Thy more glo­ri­ous strife
Hath re­stored a world to life.

So no oth­er name is giv’n
Unto mor­tals un­der Heav’n
Which can make the dead to rise,
And ex­alt them to the skies.

That which Christ so hard­ly wrought,
That which He so dear­ly bought,
That sal­va­tion, mor­tals, say,
Will you mad­ly cast away?

Rather glad­ly for that name
Bear the cross, en­dure the shame;
Joyfully for Him to die
Is not death, but vic­to­ry.

Dost Thou, Je­sus, con­des­cend
To be called the sin­ner’s friend?
Ours, then, it shall al­ways be
Thus to make our boast of Thee.