From heav'n the sinning angels fell,

And wrath and darkness chained them down;

But man, vile man, forsook his bliss,

And mercy lifts him to a crown.

Amazing work of sovereign grace

That could distinguish rebels so!

Our guilty treasons called aloud

For everlasting fetters too.

To thee, to thee, Almighty Love,

Our souls, ourselves, our all we pay:

Millions of tongues shall sound thy praise

On the bright hills of heav'nly day.