tr., John Brownlie
tauta soi hemeteroio thalusia, Christe
Cento from christe anax, se proton
Christ, for Thee a wreath adorning
Weaves my raptured soul with glee,
For from death this glorious morning
Thou hast risen triumphantly.
From the tomb behold Him rising,
Christ our Lord whose praise is sung.
Death is slain; O power surprising!
Hades' gates are open flung.
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.
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.
Hark! the highest heavens are ringing,
Choirs angelic lead the strain,
And my opened lips in singing
Tell the praises forth again.