April Hymn Sing

All Praise to Thee, Eternal Lord

All praise to thee, eternal Lord,
Clothed in a garb of flesh and blood;
Choosing a manger for thy throne,
While worlds on worlds are thine alone.

Once did the skies before thee bow;
A virgin’s arms contain thee now:
Angels who did in thee rejoice
Now listen for thine infant voice.

A little child, thou art our guest,
That weary ones in thee may rest;
Forlorn and lowly is thy birth,
That we may rise to heav’n from earth.

Thou comest in the darksome night
To make us children of the light,
To make us, in the realms divine,
Like thine own angels round thee shine.

All this for us thy love hath done;
By this to thee our love is won:
For this we tune our cheerful lays,
And shout our thanks in ceaseless praise.

Martin Luther (1524) | Robert Schumann (1839; arr.)


All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name!

All hail the pow’r of Jesus’ name!
Let angels prostrate fall,
Let angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem.

And crown — Him,
crown Him, crown Him, crown Him,
and crown Him Lord of all!

Crown Him, ye martyrs of your God,
Who from His altar call,
Who from His altar call;
Extol the stem of Jesse’s rod.

Ye seed of Israel’s chosen race,
Ye ransomed of the fall,
Ye ransomed of the fall,
Hail Him who saves you by His grace.

Sinners, whose love can ne’er forget
The wormwood and the gall,
The wormwood and the gall,
Go, spread your trophies at His feet.

Let ev’ry kindred, ev’ry tribe
On this terrestrial ball,
On this terrestrial ball,
To Him all majesty ascribe.

O that with yonder sacred throng
We at His feet may fall,
We at His feet may fall!
We’ll join the everlasting song.

Perronet (1779; alt.) & Rippon (1787) | Ellor (1838)


Stricken, Smitten, and Afflicted

Stricken, smitten, and afflicted,
See Him dying on the tree!
‘Tis the Christ by man rejected;
Yes, my soul, ‘tis He, ‘tis He!
‘Tis the long-expected Prophet,
David’s son, yet David’s Lord;
By His Son God now has spoken:
‘Tis the true and faithful Word.

Tell me, ye who hear Him groaning,
Was there ever grief like His?
Friends thro’ fear His cause disowning,
Foes insulting His distress;
Many hands were raised to wound Him,
None would interpose to save;
But the deepest stroke that pierced Him
Was the stroke that Justice gave.

Ye who think of sin but lightly
Nor suppose the evil great
Here may view its nature rightly,
Here its guilt may estimate.
Mark the sacrifice appointed,
See who bears the awful load;
‘Tis the Word, the Lord’s Anointed,
Son of Man and Son of God.

Here we have a firm foundation,
Here the refuge of the lost;
Christ’s the Rock of our salvation,
His the name of which we boast.
Lamb of God, for sinners wounded,
Sacrifice to cancel guilt!
None shall ever be confounded
Who on Him their hope have built.

Kelly (1804) | Paderborn (1850)


O Sacred Head, Now Wounded

O Sacred Head, now wounded,
with grief and shame weighed down;
now scornfully surrounded
with thorns, thine only crown;
O sacred Head, what glory,
what bliss ’til now was thine!
Yet, though despised and gory,
I joy to call thee mine.

What thou, my Lord, hast suffered
was all for sinners’ gain:
mine, mine was the transgression,
but thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior!
‘Tis I deserve thy place;
look on me with thy favor,
vouchsafe to me thy grace.

What language shall I borrow
to thank thee, dearest Friend,
for this, thy dying sorrow,
thy pity without end?
O make me thine forever;
and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never
outlive my love to thee.

Clairvaux | Hassler


How Deep the Father’s Love For Us

How deep the Father’s love for us,
How vast beyond all measure,
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure.
How great the pain of searing loss –
The Father turns His face away,
As wounds which mar the Chosen One
Bring many sons to glory.

Behold the man upon a cross,
My sin upon His shoulders;
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers.
It was my sin that held Him there
Until it was accomplished;
His dying breath has brought me life –
I know that it is finished.

I will not boast in anything,
No gifts, no power, no wisdom;
But I will boast in Jesus Christ,
His death and resurrection.
Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer;
But this I know with all my heart –
His wounds have paid my ransom.

S. Townend (CCLI Lic. #401505 | Song # 1558110)


Alleluia! Alleluia!

Alleluia! Alleluia!
Hearts to heav’n and voices raise;
Sing to God a hymn of gladness,
Sing to God a hymn of praise:
He who on the cross a victim
For the world’s salvation bled,
Jesus Christ, the King of glory,
Now is risen from the dead.

Christ is risen, Christ the firstfruits
Of the holy harvest field,
Which will all its full abundance
At His second coming yield:
Then the golden ears of harvest
Will their heads before Him wave,
Ripened by His glorious sunshine
From the furrows of the grave.

Alleluia! Alleluia!
Glory be to God on high;
Alleluia to the Savior,
Who has won the victory;
Alleluia to the Spirit,
Fount of love and sanctity.
Alleluia! Alleluia!
To the Triune Majesty.

Wordsworth (1862) | Williams (1890)


To Christ the Lord

To Christ the Lord let every tongue,
Its noblest tribute bring.
When He’s the subject of the song,
Who can refuse to sing?
Survey the beauties of His love,
And on His glories dwell,
Think of the wonder of His grace,
And all His triumphs tell.

Majestic sweetness sits enthroned,
Upon His awful brow.
His head with radiant glories crowned
His lips with grace o’erflow;
No mortal can with Him compare,
Among the sons of men,
And fairer He than all the fair,
That fills the heavenly train.

He saw me plunged in deep distress,
He fled to my relief.
For me He bore the shameful cross,
And carried all my grief;
His hand a thousand blessings pours,
Upon my guilty head,
His presence gilds my darkest hours,
And guards my sleeping bed.

To Him I owe my life and breath
And all the joys I have.
He makes me triumph over death
And saves me from the grave;
To heaven the place of His abode,
He brings my weary feet,
Shows me the glories of my God
And makes my joy complete.

Since from His bounty I receive
Such proofs of love divine,
Had I a thousand hearts to give,
Lord, they would all be thine;
A thousand men could not compose
A worthy song to bring,
Yet your love is a melody
Our hearts can’t help but sing!

Stennent & Taylor (2001) | Taylor (2001) | CCLI License #401505


Across the Lands

You’re the Word of God the Father
From before the world began;
Every star and every planet
Has been fashioned by Your hand.
All creation holds together
By the power of Your voice.
Let the skies declare your glory;
Let the lands and sees rejoice.

You’re the Author of creation,
You’re the Lord of every man,
And Your cry of love
Rings out across the lands.

Yet You left the gaze of angels,
Came to seek and save the lost
And exchanged the joy of heaven
For the anguish of a cross.
With a prayer You fed the hungry,
With a word You calmed the sea;
Yet how silently You suffered,
That the guilty may go free.

With a shout You rose victorious,
Wresting vict’ry from the grave
And ascended into heaven,
Leading captives in Your way.
Now You stand before the Father,
Interceding for Your own;
From each tribe and tongue and nation
You are leading sinners home.

Getty & Townend (2002) | CCLI Song #3709898 CCLI License #401505