The Stennetts of England - Joseph Stennett - Hymn Poems

What good, what welcome, news!

   What good, what welcome, news!
   What wond'rous love is here!
That God his only son should bruise,
   So lovely, and so dear!

   That poor apostate man
   In heav'n might ever dwell,
Who with wild fury headlong ran
   The way that leads to hell.

   Dear LORD, with what surprize
   Do we thy sufferings trace;
And mark thy wounds, thy groans, thy cries,
   Thy sorrows, and disgrace!

   For all this hail thou borne
   To expiate our guilt:
Thy flesh to heal our sores was torn,
   Thy blood to cleanse us spilt.

   Thy shame deserves renown,
   Thy cross a princely throne;
That head becomes a royal crown,
   Which wore a thorny one.

   And one day thou our king
   In glory wilt appear,
And troops of saints and angels bring
   T'attend thy triumph here.

   Glory to God on high,
   Good will to men below:
If thus the friendly angels cry,
   What joy should mortals show!

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