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. Thine be the glory, risen, conqu'ring Son; Endless is the vict'ry thou o'er death hast won. 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. Thine be the glory, risen, conqu'ring Son; Endless is the vict'ry thou o'er death hast won. 3 No more we doubt thee, glorious Prince of life; Life is naught without thee: aid us in our strife; Make us more than conqu'rors, thro' thy deathless love: Bring us safe thro' Jordan to thy home above. Thine be the glory, risen, conqu'ring Son; Endless is the vict'ry thou o'er death hast won.