At Easter morn the lark, ascending,
Loud caroled forth her merry lay,
To Heav’ns high dome her swift flight wending
To greet with praise the newborn day.
And as she caroled, thus resounded
From field and grove glad nature’s voice:
Awake! let joy be now unbounded,
Our Lord is risen, let all rejoice!
Awake! pour forth your streams, ye fountains!
And praise the Lord with gladsome heart;
Awake! and join the chorus, mountains!
Let every tree and plant take part.
Ye violets in the meadows hiding,
Ye flowerets all, with perfumed breath,
Proclaim aloud the joyous tidings,
Love hath o’ercome the power of death.
Awake! all ye who slothful languish,
Weighed down by wintry grief and care,
Oppressed by mourning, filled with anguish,
Rouse ye from sleep—would ye despair?
Ye mourners, of this life so weary—
Dreaming, perchance, of days long gone,
Awake no longer sad and dreary,
The world, all nature is new-born!
Then welcome all with acclamation,
This saving health the Lord doth bring;
Free pardon and a full salvation,
Is uttered to us by the spring.
Almighty power new life hath given,
Each twig, once dead, doth know the dawn;
Almighty power the tomb hath riven—
Awake! It is the Easter morn!