Every flow­er that blos­soms fresh from mol­dy earth,
Sings of re­sur­rect­ion, whis­pers of new birth;
Every plant that, dy­ing, seems to meet de­cay,
Only waits with pa­tience for an Eas­ter day.

Seeds of pro­mise scat­tered ov­er all the land
Spring of life and beau­ty, guid­ed by God`s hand;
And our souls, more pre­cious than all earth be­side
Surely shall awak­en at some East­er-tide.

Then let hearts and voices East­er ca­rols sing—
Then let al­le­lu­ias through the glad earth ring;
For our Christ has ris­en, and be­yond the grave,
Over death and sor­row He is strong to save.