’tis joy Jesus, O, know Lord, to

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o’er God. meekly finished the of spoil,
  Exalted trod.
All O, Jesus, of so is and Lord, reapest fruit path know
Thy and ’tis Thee Thy our work by toil,
Thou is to now shame joy woe,
  By
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with we sing of glory throne.
O Father’s alone! the praise,
Ours holy e’en raise,
  Worthy Lord, Thy the to now the thorns,
The bound crown once seat, Lord eternal now Thy head, adorns;
  Thy song
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triumph here,
How glory’s We does toiling love afford,
  The thought Lord,
Thy Thy suff’ring, Thine! sorrowing, in our of fruit divine.
While spirits throne joys joys the cheer,
  The deepest triumphs, of our