Hail, mighty Jesus! how divine

Hail, mighty Jesus! how divine
Is thy victorious sword!
The stoutest rebel must resign
At thy commanding word.

Deep are the wounds thy arrows give;
They pierce the hardest heart;
Thy smiles of grace the slain revive,
And joy succeeds to smart.

Still gird thy sword upon thy thigh,
Ride with majestic sway;
Go forth, sweet Prince, triumphantly,
And make thy foes obey.

And when thy victories are complete,
When all the chosen race
Shall round the throne of glory meet,
To sing thy conquering grace;

O may my blood-washed soul be found
Among that favoured band!
And I, with them, thy praise will sound
Throughout Immanuel's land.