Our Lord is risen from the dead;

Our Jesus is gone up on high;

The powers of hell are captive led,

Dragged to the portals of the sky.

There his triumphal chariot waits,

And angels chant the solemn lay:

"Lift up your heads, ye heavenly gates,"

Ye everlasting doors, give way.

Loose all your bars of massy light,

And wide unfold the radiant scene;

He claims those mansions as his right;

Receive the King of glory in.

Who is the King of glory, Who?

The Lord that all his foes o'ercame,

The world, sin, death, and hell o'erthrew;

And Jesus is the Conqueror's name.

Lo! His triumphal chariot waits,

And angels chant the solemn lay:

"Lift up your heads, ye heavenly gates,"

Ye everlasting doors, give way.

Who is the King of glory, Who?

The Lord, of boundless power possessed,

The King of saints and angels too,

God, over all, for ever blest.