Thine be the glory

thine-be-the-glory

Tell out my soul

Thine be the glory, risen, conquering Son,
Endless is the victory thou o’er death hast won:
Angels in bright raiment rolled the stone away,
Kept the folded grave-clothes where thy body lay.
Thine be the glory, risen, conquering Son,
Endless is the vict’ry thou o’er death hast won.

Lo, Jesus meets us, risen from the tomb;
Lovingly he greets us, scatters fear and gloom;
Let the Church with gladness hymns of triumph sing,
For her Lord now liveth, death hath lost its sting:
Thine be the glory, risen, conquering Son,
Endless is the vict’ry thou o’er death hast won.

No more we doubt thee, glorious Prince of Life;
Life is nought without thee: aid us in our strife,
Make us more than conquerors through thy deathless love;
Bring us safe through Jordan to thy home above:
Thine be the glory, risen, conquering Son,
Endless is the vict’ry thou o’er death hast won.

Words: EdmondBudry (1854-1932) Tr: Richard Hoyle (1875-1939)
Tune: Maccabaeus G. F. Handel (1685-1759)


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