Thine be the glory, risen, conquering Son,
endless is the victory thou o'er death hast won;
angels in bright raiment rolled the stone away,
kept the folded grave-clothes where thy body lay.
Thine be the glory, risen, conquering Son,
endless is the victory thou o'er death hast won.
Lo, Jesus meets us, risen from the tomb;
lovingly he greets us, scatters fear and gloom
let the church with gladness hymns of triumph sing,
for her Lord now liveth, death hath lost its sting:
Thine be the glory, risen, conquering Son,
endless is the victory thou o'er death hast won.
No more we doubt thee, glorious Prince of Life;
life is naught withought thee: aid us in our strife;
make us more than conquerors through thy deathless love;
bring us safe through Jordan to thy home above:
Thine be the glory, risen, conquering Son
endless is the victory thou o'er death hast won.