1 Hosanna to the prince of Light,
That cloth'd himself in clay;
Enter'd the iron gates of death,
And tore the bars away!

2 Death is no more the King of dread,
Since our immanuel rose;
He took the tyrant's sting away,
And spoil'd our hellish foes.

3 See how the Conqu'ror mounts aloft,
And to his Father flies,
With scars of honour in his flesh
And triumph in his eyes.

4 There our exalted Saviour reigns,
And scatters blessings down;
Our Jesus fills the middle seat
Of the celestial throne.

5 [Raise your devotion, mortal tongues,
To reach his bless'd abode;
Sweet be the accents of your songs
To our incarnate God.

6 Bright Angels, strike your loudest strings,
Your sweetest voices raise;
Let heav'n and all created things,
Sound our Immanuel's praise.]