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.

 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.