The strife is o'er, the battle done; now is the Victor's triumph won; oh, let the song of praise be sung:
alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.
Death's mightiest pow'rs have done their worst, and Jesus hath his foes dispersed; let shouts of praise and joy outburst:
On the third morn he rose again glorious in majesty to reign; oh, let us swell the joyful strain:
Lord, by the stripes which wounded thee from death's dread sting thy servants free, that we may live, and sing to thee: