Hail, thou bright and sac­red morn,
Ris’n with glad­ness in thy beams!
Light, which not of earth is born,
From thy dawn in glo­ry streams;
Airs of Heav’n are breathed around,
And each place is ho­ly ground.

Sad and wea­ry were our way,
Fainting oft be­neath our load,
But for thee, thou bless­èd day,
Resting place on life’s rough road;
Here flow forth the streams of grace;
Strengthened hence we run our race.

Great Cre­at­or, who this day
From Thy per­fect work didst rest,
By the souls that own Thy sway
Hallowed be its hours and blest;
Cares of earth aside be thrown,
This day give to Heav’n alone.

Savior, who this day didst break
The dark pri­son of the tomb,
Bid my slum­ber­ing soul awake;
Shine through all its sin and gloom;
Let me, from my bonds set free,
Rise from sin, and live to Thee.

Blessèd Spir­it, Com­fort­er,
Sent this day from Christ on high;
Lord, on me Thy gifts con­fer,
Cleanse, il­lum­ine, sanc­ti­fy:
All Thine in­flu­ence shed abroad;
Let me to the truth of God.