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Genre

Isaac Watts·Post-Reformation

Hosanna to the Prince of Light,
Who clothed himself in clay,
Entered the iron gates of death,
And tore the bars away.

Death is no more the king of dread,
Since our Immanuel rose;
He took the tyrant’s sting away,
And spoiled our hellish foes.

See how the conqueror mounts aloft
And to his Father flies,
With scars of honor in his flesh,
And triumph in his eyes.

There our exalted Savior reigns,
And scatters blessings down;
Our Jesus fills the middle seat
Of the celestial throne.

Otterbein 1890 No. 142 · C.M · Warwick

Not yet anchored to a scripture passage

Charles Wesley·Post-Reformation

Christ, the Lord, is risen to-day,
Sons of men and angels say:
Raise your joys and triumphs high;
Sing, ye heavens; thou earth, reply.

Love’s redeeming work is done;
Fought the fight; the battle won:
Lo! our Sun’s eclipse is o’er;
Lo! he sets in blood no more.

Vain the stone, the watch, the seal--
Christ hath burst the gates of hell;
Death in vain forbids his rise--
Christ hath opened paradise.

Lives again our glorious King:
Where, O death, is now thy sting?
Once he died our souls to save:
Where’s thy victory, boasting grave?

Otterbein 1890 No. 143 · 7s · Nuremburg

Not yet anchored to a scripture passage