1 O Christ, our King, Creator, Lord,
Saviour of all who trust Thy word,
To them who seek Thee ever near,
Now to our praises bend Thine ear.
2 In Thy dear cross a grace is found -
It flows from every streaming wound -
Whose power our inbred sin controls,
Breaks the firm bond, and frees our souls.
3 Thou didst create the stars of night;
Yet Thou hast veiled in flesh Thy light,
Hast deigned a mortal form to wear,
A mortal's painful lot to bear.
4 When Thou didst hang upon the tree,
The quaking earth acknowledge Thee;
When Thou didst there yield up Thy breath,
The world grew dark as shades of death.
5 Now in the Father's glory high,
Great Conqueror, never more to die,
Us by Thy mighty power defend,
And reign through ages without end.
The Hymnal: Published by the authority of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A., 1895