Text: | The Victory of the King of Kings |
Author: | Watts |
1 The mighty frame of glorious grace,
That brightest monument of praise
That e'er the God of love design'd,
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 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.
5 But see the wonders of his power,
He triumphs in his dying hour,
And, while by Satan's rage he fell,
He dash'd the rising hopes of hell.
6 Thus were the hosts of death subdu'd,
And sin was drown'd in Jesus's blood:
Thus he arose, and reigns above,
And conquers sinners by his love.
7 Who shall fulfil this boundless song?
The theme surmounts an Angel's tongue:
How low, how vain are mortal airs,
When Gabriel's nobler harp despairs!
Text Information | |
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First Line: | The mighty frame of glorious grace |
Title: | The Victory of the King of Kings |
Author: | Watts |
Meter: | L. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1792 |
Scripture: | ; ; |
Topic: | The Exaltation of the Prince of Peace: The Saviour of the World |