Isaac Watts · 596 of 724

Hymn 88

Salvation! O the joyful sound! 'Tis pleasure to our ears; A sovereign balm for every wound, A cordial for our fears.

Buried in sorrow and in sin, At hell's dark door we lay; But we arise by grace Divine To see a heav'nly day.

Salvation! let the echo fly The spacious earth around, While all the armies of the sky Conspire to raise the sound.