At the grave where Christ lay sleep­ing,
In the arms of death’s em­brace,
Roman wards their watch were keep­ing,
As the night wore on apace;
Where in ma­jes­ty des­cend­ing,
Came an an­gel from the throne,
At the tomb of Jo­seph bend­ing,
Rolled away the pon­der­ous stone.

Lo! the grave is rent asun­der,
And the watch­ers are as dead;
Heav’n and earth be­held, in won­der,
Death in chains a cap­tive led:
Angels, robed in white, are say­ing,
He is ris’n, He is not here:
Christ, the call to life ob­ey­ing,
Thrills the world with hope and cheer.

Re-as­cend, O King vic­to­ri­ous,
Take again Thy roy­al throne;
There in Heav’n to rule all glo­ri­ous,
Till the earth becomes Thine own:
Foes may hate Thee, they can ne­ver
Overthrow Thy right­eous sway;
Thine shall be the king­dom ever,
In the realms of per­fect day.