OH, what a thrill of deep delight
Through the bright hosts of glory ran,
When Jesus, in the fearful fight,
Had finish'd all for ransom'd man
“TIS FINISH'D! FINISH’D!" sweetly rung
Through the whole world of bliss above;
And seraphim broke forth and sung
The glories of redeeming love.
Thus heaven rejoiced; while yet below,
Jesus, thy saints in deep dismay
Beheld the scene of mighty woe,
'Till faith, and all but love, gave way.
Yes; it was love alone that led Thy brethren,
Lord, to seek thy grave;
But every gleam of hope had fled,
For thou, they deem'd, hadst fail' d to save.
'Twas thine own arm of power that broke,
Lord, ere they came, the grave's control;
'Twas thine own blessed voice that spoke,
“PEACE, PEACE!" to each reviving soul.
Peace was their portion, peace is ours;
We, like our earlier brethren, see
Our victory won o'er Satan's powers,
Our blessedness secured by thee.
In the pure blood on Calv'ry shed,
Wash'd from our sin, beloved Lord;
We, with thyself, our living Head,
Wait for our glorious bright reward.