Jesus, with all thy saints above

My tongue would bear her part,

Would sound aloud thy saving love,.

And sing thy bleeding heart.

Blest be the Lamb, my dearest Lord,

Who bought me with his blood,

And quenched his Father's flaming sword

In his own vital flood:

The Lamb that freed my captive soul

From Satan's heavy chains,

And sent the lion down to howl

Where hell and horror reigns.

All glory to the dying Lamb,

And never-ceasing praise,

While angels live to know his name,

Or saints to feel his grace.