Ruler of the hosts of light,
Death hath yield­ed to Thy might;
And Thy blood hath marked a road
Which will lead us back to God.

From Thy dwell­ing place above,
From Thy Fa­ther’s throne of love,
With Thy look of mer­cy bless
Those with­out Thee com­fort­less.

Bitter were Thy throes on earth,
Giving to the Church her birth
From the spear wound op­en­ing wide
In Thine own life giv­ing side.

Now in glo­ry Thou dost reign
Won by all Thy toil and pain;
Thence the pro­mised Spir­it send
While our pray­ers to Thee as­cend.

Jesu, praise to Thee be giv’n
With the Fa­ther high in Heav’n;
Holy Spir­it, praise to Thee,
Now and through eter­ni­ty.