Join all the glorious names
of wisdom, love, and pow’r,
that ever mortals knew,
that angels ever bore;
all are too mean to speak His worth,
too mean to set my Savior forth.Great Prophet of my God,
my tongue would bless Thy Name;
by Thee the joyful news
of our salvation came-
the joyful news of sins forgiv’n,
of hell subdued, and peace with heav’n.Jesus, my great High Priest,
offered His blood and died;
my guilty conscience seeks
no sacrifice beside:
His pow’rful blood did once atone,
and now it pleads before the throne.My dear Almighty Lord,
my Conqueror and King,
Thy sceptre and Thy sword,
Thy reigning grace I sing;
Thine is the pow’r; behold I sit,
in willing bonds, beneath Thy feet.Now let my soul arise,
and tread the tempter down;
my Captain leads me forth
to conquest and a crown.
A feeble saint shall win the day,
tho’ death and hell obstruct the way.—Isaac Watts