Jesus bursts the bars of death
And de­spoils the greedy grave;
To the king dis­crowned He saith,
I am ris­en souls to save.
Tyrant, now thy reign is end­ed,
Thy dread sting I take away;
With thy pains sweet hopes are blend­ed,
None need long­er dread thy sway.

Trembling sol­diers strick­en dumb,
Fall around the sick­led grain,
While the heav’n­ly her­alds come,
To be­hold the Vic­tor slain.
Loudly from se­pulch­ral stone,
They pro­claim that death is dead.
Christ is now the Lord alone,
He is ris­en, as He said!

Shout, ye ran­somed! Shout aloud,
Make the very hea­vens ring;
Shout, as round the grave we crowd,
He is ris­en! Christ is king.
Seraphs, hymns of tri­umph raise,
Earth, your sweet­est songs em­ploy,
Swelling high the tide of praise,
Voicing loud one migh­ty joy!