|We sing the praise of
him who died
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 the 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 angels’ theme in heaven above.