Have we not reason now to praise, The God of our salvation?

And e'en our tongue of clay to loose, For gifts so freely given?

Yea, what but praises can we bring, To Him Whose throne is Heaven,

To Whom the earth a footstool is, And man but dust before Him.

What work of flesh could man afford, That God our state should ponder?

Or who the smallest goodness bring, By which to win His favor?

Hear now the Word of judgement say, To all the line of Adam:

In man no soundness doth remain, But only sin corruption.

Not will nor work of sinful man, From judgement can deliver,

Though he his chiefest deeds should bring, In hell they press him deeper.

Oh, sinner hear the Word of Love, Which God hath sent from Heaven:

The love of God, and love alone, Hath won thee to His favor.

How can the mortal tongue portray, What mercy God bestoweth?

The fullness of His love divine, No living mortal knoweth,

For with what cost His love He showed, No man can ever measure,

His only Son to death He gave, That we might live forever.

Let every mortal tongue proclaim, And all the Host of Heaven,

With every tree and hill enjoined, To shout such great salvation,

For God with man is now at peace, And sin hath lost its power,

At Calvary God's righteousness, Is satisfied forever.