What mys­te­ries, Lord, in Thee com­bine!
Jesus, once mor­tal, yet di­vine!
The first, the last, the end, the head,
The source of life among the dead.

O love, be­yond the stretch of thought!
What match­less won­ders hath it wrought!
My faith, while she the grace de­clares,
Trembles be­neath the load she bears.

Hail, roy­al Con­quer­or o’er the grave,
Tender to pi­ty, strong to save!
For ev­er live, for ev­er reign,
And pros­per­ous may Thy throne re­main!

Thy saints, obe­di­ent to Thy word,
With hum­ble joy sur­round Thy board;
And, long as time pur­sues its race,
Proclaim Thy death, and shout Thy grace.

In full­est choir, where an­gels join
Their harps of me­lo­dy di­vine,
Thy death in­spires a song of praise,
New through Thy life’s eter­nal days.