Isaac Watts · 622 of 724

Hymn 114

I sing my Savior's wondrous death, He conquered when he fell: "'Tis finished!" said his dying breath, And shook the gates of hell.

"'Tis finished!" our Immanuel cries, The dreadful work is done; Hence shall his sovereign throne arise, His kingdom is begun.

His cross a sure foundation laid For glory and renown, When through the regions of the dead He passed to reach the crown.

Exalted at his Father's side Sits our victorious Lord; To heav'n and hell his hands divide The vengeance or reward.

The saints, from his propitious eye, Await their several crowns And all the sons of darkness fly The terror of his frowns.