I

O woeful hour! when from the night

Emerged in wrath Satanic might,

To crush the Christ, whom God in heaven,

To raise our fallen race, had given.

II

O woeful hour! when, with the scorn

Of sinful men, His soul was torn;

When sin exulting bowed the knee,

And stung the Christ with mockery.

III

O woeful hour! when to the tree

The Christ was nailed in agony;

When anguish for our sin He bore,

And thorns His throbbing temples tore.

IV

O woeful hour! O darkest day!

The God-Man, still, entombed lay,

For death his cruel shaft had driven

To quell the hope our God had given.

V

O saddened soul! the night is past,

The morn, bright morn, has come at last;

The rage of sin its worst hath done,

Yet lives in power th’ eternal Son.

VI

The dark hath vanished in the light;

O futile now, Satanic might;

Sin wounded lies, and death is slain

By Him who lives in power again.

VII

Hail, glorious morn! the Christ hath risen;

Hail Victor from the darkest prison!

Up, up, my soul! thy praises pour

To Christ, Thy God, for evermore.