The morn­ing kin­dles all the sky,
The hea­vens re­sound with an­thems high,
The shin­ing an­gels as they speed,
Proclaim, The Lord is ris­en in­deed!

Vainly with rocks His tomb was barred,
While Ro­man guards kept watch and ward;
Majestic from the spoil­èd tomb,
In pomp of tri­umph, He has come!

When the amazed dis­ci­ples heard,
Their hearts with speech­less joy were stirred;
Their Lord’s be­lov­èd face to see,
Eager they haste to Ga­li­lee.

His pierc­èd hands to them He shows,
His face with love’s own ra­di­ance glows;
They with the an­gels’ mes­sage speed,
And shout, The Lord is ris­en in­deed!

O Christ, thou King com­pas­sion­ate!
Our hearts pos­sess, on Thee we wait:
Help us to ren­der prais­es due,
To Thee the end­less ag­es through!