1 Now from the roaring lion's rage,
O LORD, protect thy Son,
Nor leave thy darling to engage,
The pow'rs of hell alone.
2 Thus did our suffering Saviour pray,
With mighty cries and tears;
God heard him in that dreadful day,
And chas'd away his fears.
3 Great was the vict'ry of his death,
His throne exalted high;
And all the kindreds of the earth,
Shall worship, or shall die.
4 A num'rous offspring must arise
From his expiring groans;
They shall be reckon'd in his eyes
For daughters and for sons.
5 The meek and humble souls shall see,
His table richly spread;
And all that seek the Lord shall be,
With joys immortal fed.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Now from the roaring lion's rage |
Meter: | Common Metre |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1790 |
Scripture: | |
Topic: | Lord's Supper |
Notes: | Public Domain. |