Jesus, the Lord of Glory, Died

Jesus the Lord of glo­ry died

That we might nev­er die;

And now He reigns su­preme to guide

His peo­ple to the sky.

Jesus

the Sav­ior

on Cal­va­ry’s tree

Died that we might nev­er die;

And now He is plead­ing that we might see

That beau­ti­ful home on high.

Weak tho’ we are

He still is near

To lead

con­sole

de­fend;

In all our sor­row

sin

and fear

Our all-suf­fi­cient friend.

From His high throne in bliss

He deigns

Our ev­ery pray­er to heed;

Bears with our fol­ly

soothes our pains

Supplies our ev­ery need.

Still

thro’ His in­ter­cess­ion spared

We find Him true and kind;

Though we are as the mar­ble hard

And change­ful as the wind.

From His love’s ex­haust­less spring

Joys like a riv­er come;

To make the de­sert bloom and sing

O’er which we tra­vel home.

Jesus

there is none like Thee

Our Sav­ior and our Lord;

Through Heav’n and earth ex­alt­ed be

Belovèd

ob­eyed

ad­ored.