Thine be the glory

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.

No more we doubt thee, glorious Prince of Life;

Life is naught without thee: aid us in our strife;

Make us more than conquerors, through thy deathless love:

Bring us safe through Jordan to thy home above.

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