Victory in Jesus
- Joe Hawkins
- Oct 31
- 3 min read

I heard an old old story
How a Savior came from glory
How He gave His life on Calvary
To save a wretch like me
I heard about His groaning
Of His precious blood’s atoning
Then I believed in Jesus Christ
And won the victory
The Christian life begins with a story—the story. The gospel is not just information; it is transformation. This stanza tells of a weary sinner hearing, perhaps for the first time, the astounding news that God Himself came down, bore the penalty of sin, and offered grace to the unworthy. “To save a wretch like me” is not poetic embellishment—it’s the honest confession of every soul awakened to the horror of sin and the beauty of Calvary. That groaning, that blood, that atonement—it was the price paid for our peace.
Victory begins not with effort, but with belief. Not in ourselves, not in our religion, but in the finished work of Jesus Christ. The moment we trust Him, the chains fall. The war is won. The Lamb triumphs. And that victory is not merely personal—it is prophetic. Every testimony of salvation is an echo of the ancient promise in Genesis 3:15, where the Seed would crush the serpent’s head. The gospel is God’s war cry and His peace treaty in one: Come to Me, and live.
I heard about His healing
Of His cleansing pow’r revealing
How He made the lamе to walk again
And caused the blind to see
And then I cried dear Jesus
Come and heal my broken spirit
And somehow Jesus came and brought
To me the victory
The victories of Christ were not limited to the cross—they extended into every dusty road He walked, every tear He wiped, every lame foot made whole. This stanza reminds us that His power is not just to forgive sins but to restore what is broken. From physical healing to emotional and spiritual deliverance, His touch rewrites stories.
Notice the personal plea: “Come and heal my broken spirit.” It’s a cry many have whispered through tears and desperate prayers. And the answer? Somehow—that divine mystery of grace—Jesus comes. He always does. Whether in a dramatic moment of deliverance or a quiet whisper of peace, the Savior meets the broken and brings victory—not always by removing the storm, but by anchoring the soul within it.
This stanza calls to mind Psalm 34:18—”The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” That nearness is our victory.
I heard about a mansion
He has built for me in glory
And I heard about the streets of gold
Beyond the crystal sea
About the angels singing
And the old redemption story
And some sweet day I’ll sing up there
The song of victory
Our hope is not confined to this life. The hymn shifts from past and present victories to the glorious future awaiting every believer. The “mansion” is not just a promise of paradise—it’s a picture of eternal fellowship, of a home where sorrow has no key and death cannot enter. These lines paint Revelation 21 with melodic brushstrokes: gold streets, crystal seas, and angelic choruses.
But even more precious than the setting is the song. “The song of victory” is the anthem of the redeemed. We will not sing of our accomplishments or earthly crowns—we will sing the old redemption story, forever fresh, forever true. The victory that began when we first believed will crescendo into eternal praise.
This stanza lifts our eyes upward, reminding us that we are pilgrims, not residents, of this present world. Our citizenship is in heaven (Philippians 3:20), and the best is yet to come.
(CHORUS)
O victory in Jesus
My Savior forever
He sought me and bought me
With His redeeming blood
He loved me ere I knew Him
And all my love is due Him
He plunged me to victory
Beneath the cleansing flood
The chorus is the heartbeat of this hymn—a triumphant declaration of what Jesus has done and continues to do. Notice the verbs: sought, bought, loved, plunged. Christ is the initiator, the Redeemer, the Lover of souls. Long before we ever reached for Him, He reached for us. That’s grace.
And that grace demands a response: “All my love is due Him.” Not part, not half—all. Victory is not merely a past event or future promise—it’s a daily posture of surrender to the One who bled for us. The “cleansing flood” is not a trickle of mercy, but a torrent of redemption, washing over every sin, fear, and failure.
When we sing this chorus, we are not just recounting our story—we are declaring war on despair, on doubt, on darkness. This is the anthem of the overcomers, the warriors of the Lamb.
Victory in Jesus - E. M. Bartlett








