O wel­come, hap­py day,
When Je­sus rose again;
He took the sting of death away
And op­ened Heav’n to men.

Each lit­tle girl and boy
The sto­ry sweet can tell,
About the strange and ho­ly joy
On Eas­ter Day that fell.

There was a rock-hewn grave
In Joseph’s gar­den-ground,
Where Christ’s dear bo­dy bur­ied lay,
With sol­diers watch­ing round.

But ere the dawn was ris­en
Upon that East­er morn,
The King of Life had burst His pris’n
And put His foes to scorn.

And ere the sun was high
On that third hap­py day,
An an­gel bright flew from the sky
And rolled the stone away.

The ho­ly women brought
Their spic­es rich and rare;
The grave was oped, the Lord they sought
No long­er rest­ed there.

O what a won­drous sight;
The sold­iers all were gone,
And lo, be­hold an an­gel bright
Was sit­ting on the stone.

Fear not, he gent­ly said,
Ye seek your Lord again,
But He is ris’n, and left His bed;
Come, see where He has lain.