1 Our Lord is risen from the dead,
Our Jesus is gone up on high:
The pow'rs of hell are captive led,
Dragged to the portals of the sky.
2 There his triumphal chariot waits,
And angels chant 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 th' ethereal scene;
He claims these 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,
That sin, and death, and hell o'erthrew;
And Jesus is the conqu'ror's name.
5 Lo! his triumphal chariot waits,
And angels chant 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 possessed,
The King of saints and angels too,
God over all, for ever blest.
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