NOW let us all adore and praise the Lord,
Who us from Satan’s cruel grasp hast saved;
Who for our sakes God’s righteous judgment
braved;
Who to such high estate hath us restored
And on our heads heaven’s highest honors
poured!
When He, for our salvation, bared His arm,
No warlike weapon bore He to the fray;
No flaming sword, no spear of victory,
No shield to guard His heart from fatal harm,
No brazen helm from far to strike alarm.
But rather, in His hand, He meekly bore,
A reed they gave to Him in mockery,—
Ere that they nailed Him to the shameful tree—
His heart was by the archers wounded sore,—
Upon His head a crown of thorns He wore.
Weak was the strong One in His day of might.
Oh! mighty was His weakness in that day!
Oh! strong to death the love He did display!
He won by losing in the deadly fight;
He bore all wrong, and thus achieved all right.
Then let us praise, let us adore His name,
With tuneful voices in melodious song:
Praise is His right, who suffered all our wrong.
Deep thanks give we to whose relief He came,
High honor unto Him who bore our shame.
E. B.