We sing thy praise, exalted Lamb,

We sing thy praise, exalted Lamb,
Who sitt'st upon thy throne;
Ten thousand blessings on thy name,
Who worthy art alone.

Thy bruisèd, broken body bore
Our sins upon the tree;
And now thou liv'st for evermore,
And now we live through thee.

Poor sinners, sing the Lamb that died;
What theme can sound so sweet?
His drooping head, his streaming side,
His piercèd hands and feet;

With all that scene of suffering love
Which faith presents to view:
For now he lives and reigns above,
And lives and reigns for you.

Was ever grace, Lord, rich as thine?
Can aught be with it named?
What powerful beams of love divine
Thy tender heart inflamed!

Ye angels, hymn his glorious name,
Who loved and conquered thus;
And we will likewise laud the Lamb,
For he was slain for us.