The Martyrs' noble army raise
Eternal anthems to Thy praise.
Thee, Holy, Holy, Holy, King!
Thee, Lord of Sabaoth they sing;
Thus earth below, and Heav'n above,
Resound Thy glory and Thy love.
HYMN 118.
This is the day the Lord hath made,
He calls the hours His own;
Let Heav'n rejoice, let earth be glad,
And praise surround the throne.
To-day He rose and left the dead,
And Satan's empire fell;
To-day the saints His triumphs spread,
And all His wonders tell.
Hosannah to th' anointed King,
To David's holy Son!
Help us O Lord! descend, and bring
Salvation from Thy Throne.
Blest be the Lord, who comes to men
With messages of grace;
Who comes, in God His Father's name,
To save our sinful race.
Hosannah, in the highest strains
The church on earth can raise;
The highest Heav'ns, in which He reigns,
Shall give Him nobler praise.
