1 Our Lord is risen from the dead;
Our Jesus is gone up on high;
The pow'rs of hell are captive led,
Drag'd to the portals of the sky.
2 There his triumphant chariot waits
And angels chaunt the solemn lay;
Lift up your heads, ye heav'nly gates,
Ye everlasting doors, give way.
3 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.
4 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.
5 Lo, his triumphal chariot waits,
And angels chaunt the solemn lay,
Lift up your heads, ye heav'nly gates!
Ye everlasting doors, give way.
6 Who is the King of glory? who?
The Lord of boundless pow'r possess'd,
The King of saints and angels too,
God over all, forever blest.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Our Lord is risen from the dead |
Meter: | L. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1825 |
Notes: | Public Domain. |