At early dawn, with pious thought,

The holy women spices brought,--

For Christ their Lord, was dead;--

But lo! the stone was rolled away:

"Where are the seals?" they wondering say,

"The guard, where He was laid?"

"Why with your ointments mix your tears?

Why all this sighing, and these fears?"

An angel near declares:

There lies the stone that barred the tomb:

No longer now its solemn gloom

Your Lord and Master shares.

"Haste, haste, with joy the tidings tell,

The Lord hath vanquished death and hell,

For He, the death of death,

Hath burst asunder hades' prison,

And, first-born from the dead hath risen,

Even as afore He saith."

Honour to Thee, O Christ, we bring;

Thy glorious rising now we sing,

Victorious is Thy strife;

Our Hope, our Trust,--on Thee we call,--

Our Joy, our Strength, our God, our All,

And our Immortal Life.