We sing the Saviour’s wondrous death—

He conquered when he fell:

’Tis finished, said his dying breath,

And shook the gates of hell.

2 ’Tis finished, our Immanuel cries,

The dreadful work is done;

Hence shall his sovereign throne arise,

His kingdom is begun.

3 His cross a sure foundation laid

For glory and renown,

When through the regions of the dead

He passed to reach the crown.

4 Raise your devotion, mortal tongues,

His praises to record;

Sweet be the accents of your songs

To your victorious Lord.

5 Bright angels, strike your loudest strings,

Your sweetest voices raise;

Let heaven and all created things

Sound our Immanuel’s praise!