Like the golden sun ascending
In the darkly clouded sky
And on earth its glory spending
Until clouds and darkness fly,
So my Jesus from the grave,
From death’s dark, abysmal cave,
Rose triumphant Easter morning,
Brighter than the sun returning.
Thanks, O thanks, to Thee arisen
Lord and God Immanuel,
That the foe could not imprison
Thee within his hell-dark cell.
Thanks that Thou didst meet our foe
And his kingdom overthrow.
Jubilant my spirit raises
New Thy never ending praises.
Sin and death and every arrow
Satan hence may point at me
Fall now broken at the narrow
Tomb that saw Thy victory;
There Thou didst them all destroy
Giving me the cup of joy
That Thou glorious resurrection
Wrought my pardon and protection.
Thou wilt hence to life awake me
By Thy resurrection power;
Death may wound and overtake me,
Worms my flesh and bones devour,
But I face the threat of death
With the sure and joyful faith
That its fearful reign was ended
When Thy might its portal rended.
Blessed Jesus, let the Spirit
So imbue my heart with grace
That I walk by Thy blest merit
And no more the way retrace
To the vile and miry pit
Where I lay condemned, unfit,
Till redeemed to life victorious
By Thy resurrection glorious.
By Thomas Kingo (trans. J.C. Aaberg)