Isaac Watts · 597 of 724

Hymn 89

Hosannah to our conquering King! The prince of darkness flies; His troops rush headlong down to hell, Like lightning from the skies.

There, bound in chains, the lions roar, And fright the rescued sheep; But heavy bars confine their power And malice to the deep.

Hosannah to our conquering King! All hail, incarnate love! Ten thousand songs and glories wait To crown thy head above.

Thy victories and thy deathless fame Through the wide world shall run, And everlasting ages sing The triumphs thou hast won.