167    S.M.     Isaac Watts
The Passion and Exaltation of Christ. Rom. 6. 9, 10

1 Come, all harmonious tongues,
  Your noblest music bring.
  ’Tis Christ the everlasting God,
  And Christ the Man, we sing.

2 Tell how he took our flesh,
  To take away our guilt;
  Sing the dear drops of sacred blood,
  That hellish monsters spilt.

3 [Alas! the cruel spear
  Went deep into his side;
  And the rich flood of purple gore
  Their murderous weapons dyed.]

4 [The waves of swelling grief
  Did o’er his bosom roll,
  And mountains of almighty wrath,
  Lay heavy on his soul.]

5 Down to the shades of death
  He bowed his awful head;
  Yet he arose to live and reign,
  When death itself is dead.

6 No more the bloody spear;
  The cross and nails no more;
  For hell itself shakes at his name,
  And all the heavens adore.

7 There the Redeemer sits,
  High on his Father’s throne;
  The Father lays his vengeance by,
  And smiles upon his Son.

8 [There his full glories shine,
  With uncreated rays;
  And bless his saints’ and angels’ eyes,
  To everlasting days.]