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Christ Ascended. |
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My dear Almighty Lord,
My Conqueror and my King,
Thy sceptre and Thy sword,
Thy reigning grace, I sing : Thine is the power: behold I sit In willing bonds before Thy feet!
Now let my soul arise,
And tread the Tempter down ;
My Captain leads me forth
To conquest and a crown ; A feeble saint shall win the day, Though death and hell obstruct the way
Should all the hosts of death And powers of hell unknown Put their most dreadful forms Of rage and mischief on, I shall be safe ; for Christ displays Superior power, and guardian grace.
Isaac Watts. 1709.
LXXIII.
Beyond the glittering starry globe
Far as th' eternal hills, There, in the boundless worlds of light,
Our great Redeemer dwells.
Immortal angels, bright and fair,
In countless armies shine, At His right hand, with golden harps,
To offer songs divine.
" Hail! Prince," they cry, " for ever hail!
Whose unexampled love Moved Thee to quit these glorious realms
And royalties above !" |
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