From Heav’n the sinning angels fell,
And wrath and darkness chained them down;
But man, vile man, forsook his bliss,
And mercy lifts him to a crown.

Amazing work of sovereign grace
That could distinguish rebels so!
Our guilty treasons called aloud
For ev­er­last­ing fetters, too.

To Thee, to Thee, Almighty Love,
Our souls, ourselves, our all we pay:
Millions of tongues shall sound Thy praise
On the bright hills of heav’nly day.