WE SING THE PRAISE OF HIM

We sing the praise of Him who died,

Of Him who died upon the cross;

The sinner‟s hope let men deride,

For this we count the world but lost.

Inscribed upon the cross we see,

In shining letters, ‘God is love’;

He bears our sins upon the tree,

He brings us mercy from above.

The cross! it takes our guilt away,

It holds the fainting Spirit up;

It cheers with hope the gloomy day

And sweetens every bitter cup.

It makes the coward Spirit brave,

And nerves the feeble arm for fight;

It takes the terror from the grave,

And gilds the bed of death with light.

The balm of life, the cure of woe,

The measure and the pledge of love;

The sinner‟s refuge here below,

The angels‟ theme in heaven above.