New Life

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.

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.

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

Edmond Louis Budry 1854-1932
Trans. Richard Birch Hoyle 1875-1939