The blessed news of God,
Concerning His own Son,
Is now by God set forth,
To sinners lost, undone.
Tell me that type of purest gold,
Through which this Gospel truth was told.
A figure of the One to come.
They braved his wrath to save their son.
In life and death the dead arose.
By faith she hid them from their foes.
Whence came he, that dread load to bear?
He wore it, and He bids us wear.
He saw, unmoved, the angels’ joy.
Upon his bed she laid her boy.
What built the pilgrim saints of old?
Who spake his doubts in language bold?