Ye faint­ing souls, lift up your eyes
To where the morn­ing lights the skies!
The aw­ful sha­dows flee away
Before the swift ad­vanc­ing day.
The Lord is ris’n; He could not die;
He lives for you eter­nal­ly;
And by His vic­to­ry o’er the grave
His peo­ple He will sure­ly save!

No long­er mourn your seem­ing loss;
No long­er weep be­fore the cross,
Nor search the darkn­ess of the tomb;
While ov­er­heard the morn has come!
Now what shall harm your joy­ful souls
While your Re­deem­er all con­trols?
No night shall hide again His face;
No grave shall be His rest­ing place.