1 Thine be the glory, risen, conqu'ring Son:
Endless is the vict'ry 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, conqu'ring Son;
Endless is the vict'ry thou o'er death hast won.
2 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, conqu'ring Son;
Endless is the vict'ry thou o'er death hast won.
3 No more we doubt thee, glorious Prince of life;
Life is naught without thee: aid us in our strife;
Make us more than conqu'rors, thro' thy deathless love:
Bring us safe thro' Jordan to thy home above.
Thine be the glory, risen, conqu'ring Son;
Endless is the vict'ry thou o'er death hast won.
