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 could 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 away 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 fills 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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