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 Conqueror 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 heaven, and all created things,
Sound our Immanuel's praise.]