1 Hosanna to the Prince of light,
That cloth'd himself in clay;
Enter'd the iron gates of death,
And tore the bars away.
2 Death is no more the king of dread,
Since our Immanuel rose;
He took the tyrant's sting away,
And spoil'd our hellish foes.
3 See how the conq'ror mounts aloft,
And to his Father flies,
With scars of honuor in his flesh,
And triumph in his eyes.
4 There our exalted Savior reigns,
And scatters blessings down;
Our Jesus fills the middle seat
Of the celestial throne.
5 Raise your devotion, mortal tongues,
To reach his blest abode,
Sweet be the accents of your songs
To our incarnate God.
6 Bright angels, strike your loudest strings,
Your sweetest voices raise;
Let heav'n and all created things.
Sound our Immanuel's praise.
| Text Information | |
|---|---|
| First Line: | Hosanna to the Prince of light |
| Title: | Praise |
| Author: | Watts |
| Meter: | C. M. |
| Language: | English |
| Publication Date: | 1792 |
| Scripture: | ; ; |
| Topic: | The Resurrection of Christ, who arose for our Justification |
| Notes: | Public Domain. |