Let the old heathens tune their song

Let the old heathens tune their song
Of great Diana and of Jove;
But the sweet theme that moves my tongue
Is my Redeemer and his love.

Behold, a God descends and dies
To save my soul from gaping hell:
How the black gulf where Satan lies
Yawned to receive me when I fell!

How justice frowned, and vengeance stood
To drive me down to endless pain!
But the great Son proposed his blood,
And heav'nly wrath grew mild again.

Infinite Lover! gracious Lord!
To thee be endless honors giv'n;
Thy wondrous name shall be adored
Round the wide earth and wider heav'n.