1 Jesus leaves His throne on high,
To save a ru­ined race;
Lo, He con­des­cends to die,
And take the sin­ner’s place:
In deep slum­bers see Him borne
To the tomb, but soon He wakes;
On the third, the glo­ri­ous morn,
Death’s ir­on bands He breaks.

2 Soldiers at the en­try stand,
The sac­red place to guard;
But be­hold, the time’s at hand,
The tomb must be un­barred:
Angels roll the stone away,
While the watch­ers’ eyes are sealed,
Death re­luc­tant yields his prey,
And Je­sus stands re­vealed.

3 Raise, ye saints, your joy­ful eyes,
The vic­to­ry is yours;
Jesus now above the skies,
Your end­less bliss se­cures:
He the first-fruits from the grave,
Gives a pledge of all to come:
Trust in Him, whose pow­er to save
Shall bring you safe­ly home.