We sing the praise of Him who died

We sing the praise of Him who died,
Of Him Who died upon the Cross;
The sinners' hope let men deride,
For this we count the world but loss.

Inscribed upon that Cross we see,
In shining letters, “God is Love.”
He bears our sins upon the Tree,
He brings us mercy from above.

The Cross! it takes our guilt away;
It holds the fainting spirit up;
It cheers with hope the gloomy day,
And sweetens ev’ry bitter cup.

It makes the coward spirit brave,
And nerves the feeble arm for fight;
It takes all terror from the grave,
And gilds the bed of death with light.

The balm of life, the cure of woe,
The measure and the pledge of love,
The sinners’ refuge here below,
The angels’ theme in heaven above.
         Thomas Kelly