Morning spreads her crimson rays,
Heav’n resounds with hymns of praise,
Through the earth loud anthems swell,
Heard with rage in vanquished hell.
From the dark sepulchral gloom
See the King of Glory come:
See Him now from bondage freed
All His saints to daylight lead.
Vain the tomb securely barred,
Sealèd stone, and armèd guard:
Death is crushed, and finds his bier
In the Conqueror’s sepulcher.
Hence with mourning, hence with tears,
Hence with anxious griefs and fears;
Death’s subduer is not here,
Cries His angel minister.
That these thoughts of paschal joy
Ever may our minds employ,
Dead to sin, Thy servants give,
Lord, in holiness to live.
Now be God the Father praised,
With the Son in triumph raised
From the grave, His glory’s heir,
And the blessèd Comforter.