ere Christ not arisen, how falsely they preach
Who saw the tomb's sealing, who witnessed its breach!
What boon that they promise, what precept they teach,
Could be but vain fancy and blasphemous speech?
Were Christ not arisen, our faith were in vain,
Lost they who now slumber; in sin we remain.
Then most to be pitied were we of all men,
Our hope but for this life—yet Christ rose again.
Indeed, Christ is risen, Firstfruits of the dead!
As sin came by one man, for all men One bled.
As one's death once fettered all under death's dread,
All come forth to life now with One at their head.
On Christ, who is risen, death has no more claim;
No more on the baptized who trust in His name.
Inhumed in its waters with sin's bond and shame,
We rise up with Jesus, set free from the same.
Now Christ, who is risen, has taken His seat
Above all the heavens, all foes at His feet.
When He comes with angels to garner His wheat,
His voice will awake us and make us complete.
Where, grave, is your triumph? Death, where is your sting?
Engulfed, yes, and shattered by Christ, the world's King!
To us the same triumph His messengers bring;
To Him, then, all praises we joyfully sing!