1 O Christ, our King, Creator, Lord,
Savior of all who trust thy Word,
To them who seek thee ever near,
Now to our praises bend thine ear.
2 In thy dear cross a grace is found
(It flows from every streaming wound)
Whose pow'r our inbred sin controls,
Breaks the firm bond, and frees our souls.
3 Thou didst create the stars of night;
Yet thou hast veiled in flesh thy light,
Hast deigned a mortal form to wear,
A mortal's painful lot to bear.
4 When thou didst hang upon the tree,
The quaking earth acknowledged thee;
When thou didst here yield up thy breath,
The world grew dark as shades of death.
5 Now in the Father's glory high,
Great Conqu'ror, nevermore to die,
Us by thy mighty pow'r defend,
And reign through ages without end.