1 Hail! mighty Jesus; how divine
Is thy victorious sword!
The stoutest rebel must resign,
At thy commanding word.

2 Deep are the wounds thy arrows give;
They pierce the hardest heart:
Thy smiles of grace the slain revive,
And joy succeeds to smart.

3 Still gird thy sword upon thy thigh,
Ride with majestic sway:
Go forth, sweet prince, triumphantly
And make thy foes obey.

4 And, when thy victories are complete;
When all the chosen race
Shall round the throne of glory meet,
To sing thy conq'ring grace;

5 O may my humble soul be found
Among that favour'd band!
And I, with them, thy praise will sound
Throughout Immanuel's land.