The whole cre­ation was un­done,
The world in ru­ins lay,
When God sent forth His on­ly Son
To suf­fer and ob­ey.

Jesus, with pity moved, for­sakes
The glo­ries of His throne,
Redeems the souls He loved, and makes
His Fa­ther’s coun­sels known.

The death He died, but quick­ly rose
Majestic from the grave;
And now He tri­umphs o’er His foes,
With so­ve­reign pow­er to save.

Freely He gives His pro­mised grace,
To make our na­ture clean;
And clothes us with His right­eous­ness,
Till not a spot is seen.

His migh­ty arm shall be our trust,
His hand our wants sup­ply;
He’ll ani­mate our sleep­ing dust,
And raise it up on high.

Thy prais­es, oh Im­ma­nu­el,
Our lips shall spread abroad;
And in har­mo­nious ac­cents tell
The won­ders of our God.