The Stennetts of England - Joseph Stennett - Hymn Poems

'Tis finish'd, the redeemer crys

'Tis finish'd, the redeemer crys;
Then lowly bows his fainting head;
And soon th' expiring sacrifice
Sinks to the regions of the dead.

'Tis done - the mighty work is done!
For men or angels much too great;
Which none, but God's eternal son,
Or would attempt, or could complete.

'Tis done, - his tears,his groans, and wounds,
His sweat and blood, his pains and toils,
Vict'ry with deathless glory crowns,
With trophies, and triumphant spoils.

Hell's broken troops find no defence:
Sin dies, and death itself is slain;
Hope, peace, love, joy and innocence
Return to dwell on earth again.

The conqueror falls a sacrifice,
Heav'n's just resentments to appease:
Justice with mercy now Complys,
Both with the sinner's pardon pleas'd.

'Tis done, - old things are pall away,
And a new state of things begun ,
A world whose age feels no decay,
But shall out-last the circling fun.

A new account of time begins,
When our dear Lord resigned his breath,
Charg'd with our sorrows and our sins,
Our lives to ransom by his death.

Once he was dead now lives and reigns
Where angels his great deeds proclaim:
Let's tell our joys in pious strains,
And spread the glory of his name.

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