Phil Wickham - The victory

^FOn a ^Chill Your ^Gblood was ^Amspilled Your ^Fbrow, Your ^Chands, Your ^Gfeet With ^Fnails and ^Cthorns the ^Gveil was ^Amtorn To ^Fmake a ^Cway for ^Gme, You ^Fmade ^Ca ^Gway for ^Cme.

^FJe^Csus, ^GSav^Amior, my ^FGod, my ^CKing, my ^GLord ^FJe^Csus, ^GSav^Amior, the ^Fvicto^Gry is Yours^F. ^{C G Am F C G}

^FWrapped and ^Cbound, they ^Glaid You ^Amdown A ^Fperfect ^Csacri^Gfice But ^Fin three ^Cdays, the ^Gstone was rolled ^Amaway For^Fever You'^Gre a^Clive For^Fever You'^Gre a^Clive

^FJe^Csus, ^GSav^Amior, my ^FGod, my ^CKing, my ^GLord ^FJe^Csus, ^GSav^Amior, the ^Fvicto^Gry is ^CYours F G C (hold out the C) The victory is Yours

^CDeath has been ^Gbea^Ften The ^Cgrave has been ^Amconq^Guered ^CJesus is ^Gri^Fsen ^AmLife ever ^Gaf^Fter