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 the body lay.

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

Lo! Jesus meets thee, risen from the tomb;
lovingly he greets thee, scatters fear and gloom.
Let the church with gladness hymns of triumph sing,
for our 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.

—Thine be the Glory
words: Edmond Budry, 1904; trans by R. Birch Hoyle, 1923
music: Harmonia Sacra, ca 1753; arr. from Handel, 1747