hymns-for-the-poor-of-the-flock-v4

137. ‘Hark! how the blood-bought hosts above.’

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1. Hark J how the blood-bought hosts above, 
Conspire to chaunt the Saviour’s love,
In sweet harmonious strains!
And while they strike their golden lyres, 
This glorious theme each bosom fires,
That Grace triumphant reigns!2 W e’ll join the song! for we can tell 
How sov’reign grace dissolv’d the spell,
That kept us bound in chains;
And from that dear and happy day,
How oft, by grace constrain’d to say 
That Grace triumphant reigns!

3. For tho’ w e’ve stray’d like saints of old, 
Grace has restor’d us to the fold
As captives in its chains;
Thus, sav’d by grace, w e’d gladly sing,
Till all the Heav’ns and earth should ring 
With “Grace triumphant reigns! ”

4. Grace still,—till all redeem’d by blood 
Are taught to know themselves and God,—
Its empire shall maintain;
To spoil the mighty of the prey,
And set the captive exile free,
Shall Grace triumphant reign.

5. Then,—call’d to meet the church’s Head, 
The Saviour’s grace shall banish dread,
His love our souls sustain;
And, as we rise to endless day,
W e’ll raise the voice, and boldly say,
Grace doth triumphant reign!