Shout praises, ye heavens,

And sigh them, soft air;

From highest to lowest,

Sing, sing everywhere;

For black clouds of tempest

Are banished from sight;

And spring, crowned with glory,

Is pouring her light.

Come forth with the spring-time,

Sweet flow’rets, and spread

Your rich hues around us

Where nature lay dead;

Come, violets modest,

And roses so gay,

With lilies and marigolds,

Spangle the way.

Flow joy song in fulness,

Flow higher and higher;

Pour forth thy sweet measures,

Thou murmuring lyre;

O sing, for He liveth,

As truly He said,

Yea, Jesus hath risen

Unharmed from the dead.

Shout praises, ye mountains,

Vales catch the refrain;

Frisk gaily, ye fountains;

Hills, tell it again—

He liveth, He liveth,

As truly He said;

Yea, Jesus hath risen

Unharmed from the dead.