Hail, hail the ris­en Son!
Our migh­ty king to­day!
Answer, ye sol­diers tried,
Whence gone His breath­less clay?
And who has swept the stone
From guard­ed tomb away,
The migh­ty seal­èd stone
From se­pul­cher away?
Why speech­less, stub­born guard?
You must the truth abide;
Our Lord is ris’n to bless
This glo­ri­ous East­er­tide.

Tell, tell, old Ro­man, true
How fared you in the night?
Heard ye no fear­ful sound,
Saw ye no hosts of light?
For shame, thou faith­less guard,
For ter­ror sealed thy sight;
Hold peace, poor Ro­man guard,
You failed on watch last night.
Why speech­less, stub­born guard,
You must the truth abide;
Our Lord is ris’n to bless
This glo­ri­ous East­er­tide.

Wake, wake, glad East­er winds,
And bear the news of cheer,
The pro­phe­cy is filled:
Tell them who yearn to hear.
For Christ is ris­en in­deed,
Death’s sha­dows dis­ap­pear,
The dawn has pierced the gloom
And ban­ished doubt and fear.
Be glad, O spa­cious land,
Lift voice, ye ocean wide;
Come forth, all liv­ing things,
To hail blest East­er­tide.