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.

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.