Chorus

Blest leader of the bright array, That yet shall break their cerements dread, And change their cold corrupted clay, To rise, undying, from the dead; Be thou our helper, and our stay, When comes creation’s final day, When roll the parching skies away, And loud the archangel trumpets ring! That such our triumph-song may be, As rapt, we rise to life and thee, Oh grave where is thy victory, Where, Spoiler, is thy sting!