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 Conqu'ror mounts aloft,
And to his Father flies,
With scars of honour in his flesh,
And triumph in his eyes.
4 Raise your devotion, mortal tongues,
To reach his bless'd abode;
Sweet be the accents of your songs,
To our incarnate God.
5 Bright angels, strike your loudest string
Your sweetest voices raise;
Let heav'n and all created things,
Sound our Immanuel's praise.
|First Line:||Hosanna to the Prince of light|
|Title:||The Resurrection of Christ|