Three women went forth at the break­ing of day,
Sweet oint­ment and spic­es on Je­sus to lay;
Sad, sad were their hearts as they went thro’ the gloom
And thought of their Lord ly­ing dead in the tomb.

’Twas all in a se­pul­cher Jo­seph had made,
Rough-hewn in the rock, that our Sav­ior was laid;
And Jo­seph had rolled a great stone at the door,
And Pi­late had sealed it to make it more sure.

There sol­diers kept watch, keep­ing guard night and day
For fear that the Christ would be stol­en away;
But vain were the vi­gil and the craft of His foes,
Triumphant o’er death and the grave He arose.

Three wo­men drew nigh to the grave at the dawn,
The stone was rolled back, and their Sav­ior was gone;
And two shin­ing angels in gar­ments so white,
With words of great joy put their sor­rows to flight.

All hail, bless­èd wo­men! Why weep for the dead?
Your Lord is not here: He is ris’n as He said;
Now come, see the place where the Lord late­ly lay,
Then haste, spread the news—He is ris­en to­day.