The night is past, the hea­vy night of sor­row,
The creep­ing hours un­so­laced and alone;
Lift up your hearts to greet the hap­py mor­row,
Fair cra­dle of a fu­ture yet un­known;
A whis­per shakes the cur­tained grey,
To hail the ris­ing King,
And on the crys­tal air of day
The bells be­gin to ring.

Refrain

The bells be­gin to ring,
The bells be­gin to ring, to ring, to ring,
And on the crys­tal air of day
The bells be­gin to ring,
Ring on, glad bells, ring on.

Again the words of glad re­lease are spok­en,
To ev­ery soul with lead­en grief op­pressed,
The year brings back the old im­mor­tal to­ken,
And hope re­turns to ease the bur­dened breast;
A look—a word, we know not how,
Our long re­sent­ment goes;
It melts be­fore a sweet­er vow,
To van­ish like the snows.

Refrain

As light re­turns, in sud­den pal­lor steal­ing,
The ci­ty starts, her pulses thrill again—
For her the breath of vi­tal strength and heal­ing,
Whose streets and al­leys teem with my­ri­ad men!
In many a hearth her grate­ful fires
A sac­red in­cense raise,
For still the tame­less heart as­pires
And burns in pray­ers and praise.

Refrain