All nature is sleeping, the world’s wrapped in death;
E’en the winds in their sighing have hushed their sad breath;
For the God who had made them lies still in death’s sleep,
And His heartbroken followers can but tremble and weep.
O sing it! O shout it! this wondrous refrain,
Our Lord is triumphant, the Lamb that was slain;
He the vict’ry has won over death and the grave,
Henceforth and forever the mighty to save.
How sadly they gather in darkness and gloom,
For He whom they loved is now locked in the tomb;
They wait in that chamber, they know not for what,
How burdened their hearts are, how hard seems their lot.
But hark! now while sitting in silence and fears,
The sound of glad voices breaks forth on their ears;
’Tis the women whose love led them forth in the night,
And Jesus now bids them to haste with the light.
He’s risen! He’s risen! Hear the women’s glad cry;
He’s risen! He’s risen! No more will He die;
Go forth, glad evangel, go forth in your might;
The Savior has called you, O haste with the light.