I

Christ, for Thee a wreath adorning

Weaves my raptured soul with glee,

For from death this glorious morning

Thou hast risen triumphantly.

II

From the tomb behold Him rising,

Christ our Lord whose praise is sung.

Death is slain; O power surprising!

Hades’ gates are open flung.

III

Thou for man to earth in meekness

Cam’st that he new born might be;

Thou upon the cross in weakness

Diedst that he might die with Thee.

IV

Thou didst rise—we hail Thee, Jesus!

And we leave the tomb with Thee.

Victor, by the power that frees us,

Where Thou art, there we would be.

V

Hark! the highest heavens are ringing,

Choirs angelic lead the strain,

And my opened lips in singing

Tell the praises forth again.