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. 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 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. Thine be the glory, risen, conquering Son; Endless is the victory thou o’er death hast won.