Hark! how the blood-bought hosts above

Hark! how the blood-bought hosts above
Conspire to praise redeeming love,
In sweet harmonious strains;
And while they strike the golden lyres,
This glorious theme each bosom fires,
That grace triumphant reigns.

Join thou, my soul, for thou canst tell
How grace divine broke up thy cell,
And loosed thy native chains;
And still, from that auspicious day,
How oft art thou constrained to say,
That grace triumphant reigns.

Grace, till the tribes redeemed by blood,
Are brought to know themselves and God,
Her empire shall maintain;
To call when he appoints the day,
And from the mighty take the prey,
Shall grace triumphant reign.

When called to meet the King of dread,
Should love compose my dying bed,
And grace my soul sustain,
Then, ere I quit this mortal clay,
I'll raise my fainting voice, and say,
Let grace triumphant reign.