Plunged in a gulf of dark despair,

We wretchéd sinners lay,

Without one cheerful beam of hope,

Or spark of glimmering day.

2 With pitying eyes the Prince of grace

Beheld our helpless grief;

He saw, and—O! amazing love!

He ran to our relief.

3 Down from the shining seats above,

With joyful haste he fled,

Entered the grave in mortal flesh,

And dwelt among the dead.

4 O! for this love let rocks and hills

Their lasting silence break;

And all harmonious human tongues

The Saviour’s praises speak.

5 Angels! assist our mighty joys;

Strike all your harps of gold;

But, when you raise your highest notes,

His love can ne’er be told.