Like the gold­en sun as­cend­ing,
Breaking through the gloom of night,
On the earth His glo­ry spend­ing
So that dark­ness takes to flight,
Thus my Je­sus from the grave
And death’s dis­mal, dread­ful cave
Rose tri­um­phant East­er morn­ing
At the ear­ly pur­ple dawn­ing.

Thanks to Thee, O Christ vic­to­ri­ous!
Thanks to Thee, O Lord of Life!
Death hath now no pow­er o’er us,
Thou hast con­quered in the strife.
Thanks be­cause Thou didst arise
And hast op­ened pa­ra­dise!
None can ful­ly sing the glo­ry
Of the re­sur­rect­ion sto­ry.

Though I be by sin o’er­tak­en,
Though I lie in help­less­ness,
Though I be by friends for­sak­en
And must suf­fer sore dis­tress,
Though I be de­spised, con­temned,
And by all the world con­demned,
Though the dark grave yawn be­fore me,
Yet the light of hope shines o’er me.

Thou hast died for my trans­gress­ion,
All my sins on Thee were laid;
Thou hast won for me sal­va­tion,
On the cross my debt was paid.
From the grave I shall arise
And shall meet Thee in the skies.
Death it­self is tran­si­to­ry;
I shall lift my head in glo­ry.

Grant me grace, O bless­èd Sav­ior,
And Thy Ho­ly Spi­rit send
That my walk and my be­hav­ior
May be pleas­ing to the end;
That I may not fall again
Into death’s grim pit and pain,
Whence by grace Thou hast re­trieved me
And from which Thou hast re­lieved me.

For the joy Thy ad­vent gave me,
For Thy holy, pre­cious Word;
For Thy bap­tism, which doth save me,
For Thy blest com­mun­ion board;
For Thy death, the bit­ter scorn,
For Thy re­sur­rect­ion morn,
Lord, I thank Thee and ex­tol Thee,
And in Hea­ven I shall be­hold Thee.