Awake, said he that rules the skies,
My sword of vengeance great;
Awake and smite the man that is
My fellow, and my mate.

Soon, therefore, as he took their flesh,
To take away our guilt,
With justice stern avenging lash
His sacred blood was spilt.

The waves of sorrow, ev'n to death,
Did o'er his bosom roll;
And mountains of almighty wrath
Lay heavy on his soul.

But O! the wisdom, mercy, grace,
That join'd with vengeance now!
He dies to save our guilty race.
And yet he rises too!

A person so divine was he,
Who yielded to be slain,
That he could give his life away,
And take his life again.

He, for the crown of thorns and shame,
Now wears a crown of glore;
Hell trembles at his awful name,
And all the heav'ns adore.