Beneath the ty­rant Sa­tan’s yoke
Our souls were long op­pressed;
Till grace our galling fetters broke,
And gave the wea­ry rest.

Jesus, in that im­port­ant hour,
His mighty arm made known;
He ran­somed us by price, and power,
And claimed us for His own.

Now, freed from bond­age, sin, and death,
We walk in wis­dom’s ways;
And wish to spend our ev­ery breath,
In won­der, love, and praise.

Ere long, we hope with Him to dwell
In yon­der world ab­ove;
And now, we on­ly live to tell
The rich­es of His love.

O might we, ere we hence re­move,
Prevail up­on our youth
To seek, that they may like­wise prove,
His mer­cy and His truth.

Like Si­me­on, we shall glad­ly go,
When Je­sus calls us home
If they are left a seed be­low,
To serve Him in our room.

Lord hear our pray­er, in­dulge our hope,
On these Thy Spir­it pour;
That they may take our sto­ry up,
When we can speak no more.