HARK! HOW THE BLOOD-BOUGHT HOSTS ABOVE

Hark! How the blood-bought hosts above
Conspire to chant the Saviour's love,
In sweet harmonious strains!
And while they strike their golden lyres
This glorious theme each bosom fires,
That Grace triumphant reigns!

We'll join the song, for we can tell
How sovereign grace dissolved the spell
That kept us bound in chains;
And from that dear and happy day
How oft we've been constrained to say
That grace triumphant reigns.

Yes! Though we've strayed, like saints of old,
Grace has restored us to the fold,
As captives in its chains:
Thus saved by grace, we'd gladly sing,
Till all the earth and heavens ring
With grace triumphant reigns.

When called to meet our glorious Head,
That perfect love shall banish dread,
Which now our soul sustains;
And when we rise to endless day,
We'll raise our voice and boldly say,
Grace, grace triumphant reigns.