All hail, dear Conqueror, all hail
Oh, what a victory is thine!
How beautiful thy strength appears!
Thy crimson wounds, how bright they shine!
Thou camest at the dawn of day,
Armies of souls a-round thee were,
Blest spirits throng to worship thee
In flesh now glorified and fair.

The everlasting Godhead lay
Shrouded within those limbs divine,
Nor left untenanted one hour
That sacred human heart of thine.
They worshipped thee, those ransomed souls,
With the fresh strength of love set free;
They worshipped joyously, and thought
Of Mary, while they looked on thee.

They worshipped, while the beauteous soul
Paused by the body's wounded side
Bright flashed the cave, before them stood
The living Jesus glorified.
All hail, dear Conqueror, all hail
Oh, what a victory is thine!
How beautiful thy strength appears!
Thy crimson wounds, how bright they shine!