Let Zion, in her songs, record

Let Zion, in her songs, record
The honours of her dying Lord
Triumphant over sin;
How sweet the song, there's none can say
But he whose sins are washed away,
Who feels the same within.

We claim no merit of our own,
But, self-condemned before thy throne,
Our hopes on Jesus place;
In heart, in lip, in life depraved,
Our theme shall be, a sinner saved,
And praise redeeming grace.

We'll sing the same while life shall last,
And when, at the archangel's blast
Our sleeping dust shall rise,
Then in a song for ever new
The glorious theme we'll still pursue,
Throughout the azure skies.

Prepared of old, at God's right hand,
Bright, everlasting mansions stand,
For all the blood-bought race;
And till we reach those seats of bliss,
We'll sing no other song but this:
A sinner saved by grace.