From the sea the mist floats slow­ly,
While night’s ta­pers, faint and ho­ly,
Fade be­yond the dawn­ing gray;
Birds with­in the nest are wak­ing;
Far above the East is break­ing,
Promise of re­turn­ing day.

Seraphim who saw un­fold­ing
Earth’s first morn are now be­hold­ing
That which will all ag­es thrill—
They who sang in hea­ven­ly plac­es
At His birth, and hid their faces
From His shame, with awe are still.

For be­hold where they have laid Him—
Empty is the tomb they made Him—
Death lies con­quered at His feet.
See, He waits to greet the morn­ing,
Fairest thing the earth adorn­ing,
All love’s sac­ri­fice com­plete.

Miracle of love that giv­eth
Life from death, be­cause He liv­eth;
O, the crown of vic­to­ry;
That, while an­gels fall before Him,
Human hearts can best ad­ore Him!
He is ris­en, soul, for thee!