Emerging from yon si­lent grave,
What won­drous per­son do I see?
It is Im­ma­nu­el, strong to save,
Who loved, and lived, and died for me.

I see Him mount the az­ure skies,
And seated on His roy­al throne,
Whence He looks down with pi­ty­ing eyes,
And makes my cares and griefs His own.

Oh could I in a clear­er light,
Behold the beau­ties of His face,
Divinely sweet, di­vine­ly bright,
How would I fly to His em­brace!