O Je­sus, our king,
Thy glo­ry we sing,
Thy ris­ing de­clare,
And join the pomp,
And the be­ne­fit share.
Thy con­quest we feel
O’er death and o’er hell,
Redeemed from the grave,
And bold we pro­claim Thee
Almighty to save.

We know that our head
Is ris­en in­deed,
Thy re­cord re­ceive,
And raised by the pow­er
Of Thy Spir­it we live.
Thy Spir­it at­tests
The truth in our breasts,
Thy wit­ness im­parts
The first re­sur­rect­ion
Of faith to our hearts.

Thou con­quered be­neath
The sharp­ness of death,
Our souls to re­trieve,
And op­en the king­dom
To all that be­lieve.
Believing on Thee,
We rise from the tree,
And hea­ven­ward move,
And fly to Thy throne
On the wings of Thy love.

Thy love that o’er­came
Our sor­row and shame,
And ran­somed our race,
And sent Thee to God
To pre­pare us a place;
Go af­ter, it cries,
Proceed to the skies,
By Im­ma­nu­el led,
So fol­low, and suf­fer,
And reign with your head.