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He tastes her joys, he feels her woes,
And ever reign with him. 93
Our Jesus is gone up on high ;
Dragg’d to the portals of the sky.
And angels chant the solemn lay; “ Lift up your heads, ye heavenly gates,
Ye everlasting doors give way." Loose all your bars of massy light,
And wide unfold th' ethereal scene : He claims those mansions as his right;
Receive the King of Glory in. “ Who is the King of Glory, Who ?”
The Lord that all his foes o'ercame : The world, sin, death, and hell o'erthrew,
And Jesus is the conqu’ror's name. Lo! his triumphal chariot waits,
And angels 'chant the solemn lay: “ Lift up your heads, ye heav'nly gates,
Ye everlasting doors give way.” “ Who is the King of glory, Who ?”
The Lord, of glorious pow'r possess'd :
The King of saints and angels too;
God over all, for ever bless'd! 94
How vain the seal and stone !
where is thy victory?
Rising he leaves the tomb.
Then mounts the starry sky:
And shout his victory.
Before thy loving face ;
Ånd sing redeeming grace.
Each drooping soul inflame: Refresh'd, may we unwearied go Along this wilderness below,
And spread thy glorious fame.
The Saviour left the dead,
High rais'd his conqu’ring head
Lo! the angelic bands,
In full assembly meet :
And worship at his feet :
The joysul news to bear:
What music fills the air !
Redeem'd by him from hell;
The globe on which you dwell :
Who sav'st us by thy blood :
Thou rising, reigning God :
And bow with pleasure down to see,
The place where Jesus lay.
Such wonders love can do:
Which throbb’d and bled for you. Now, for a moment vent your grief,
Let tears of sorrow fall, And whilst you view your murder'd Lord,
Your sins to memory call.
The Saviour lives again;
The conqu’ror could detain.
His once dishonour'd head ;
Who dwelt among the dead.
His empty tomb survey ;
To realms of endless day. 98
Poland BEYOND the glitt'ring starry sky,
Far as the eternal bills,
Our dear Redeemer dwells,