We sing the praise of him who died;
Of him who died upon the cross;
The sinner's hope let men deride,
For this we count the world but loss.
Inscribed upon the cross we see
In shining letters, 'God is love';
He bears our sins upon the tree;
He brings us mercy from above.
The cross! It takes our guilt away:
It holds the fainting spirit up;
It cheers with hope the gloomy day,
And sweetens every bitter cup.
It makes the coward spirit brave,
And nerves the feeble arm for fight;
It takes its terror from the grave,
And gilds the bed of death with light:
The balm of life, the cure of woe,
The measure and the pledge of love,
The sinner's refuge here below,
The angel's theme in heaven above.
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