1 The mighty frame of glorious grace,
That brightest monument of praise
That e’er the God of love designed,
Employs and fills my laboring mind.
2 Begin, my soul, the heav’nly song,
A burden for an angel’s tongue:
When Gabriel sounds these awful things,
He tunes and summons all his strings.
3 Proclaim inimitable love:
Jesus, the Lord of worlds above,
Puts off the beams of bright array,
And veils the God in mortal clay!
4 What black reproach defiled His name,
When with our sins He took our shame!
He whom adoring angels blessed
Is made the impious rebel’s jest.
5 He that distributes crowns and thrones
Hangs on a tree, and bleeds, and groans!
The Prince of Life resigns His breath,
The King of Glory bows to death!
6 But see the wonders of His power,
He triumphs in His dying hour;
And while by Satan’s rage He fell,
He dashed the rising hopes of hell.
7 Thus were the hosts of death subdued,
And sin was drowned in Jesus’ blood;
Thus He arose, and reigns above,
And conquers sinners by His love.
8 Who shall fulfill this boundless song?
The theme surmounts an angel’s tongue:
How low, how vain are mortal airs,
When Gabriel’s nobler harp despairs!