Blest morning! whose young dawning rays

Beheld our rising Lord:

That saw him triumph o’er the dust,

And leave his dark abode.

2 In the cold prison of a tomb

The great Redeemer lay,

Till the revolving skies had brought

The third, th’ appointed day.

3 Hell and the grave unite their force

To hold our Lord, in vain;

The sleeping Conqueror arose,

And burst their feeble chain.

4 To thy great name, almighty Lord,

These sacred hours we pay;

And loud hosannas shall proclaim

The triumph of the day.

5 Salvation and immortal praise

To our victorious King!

Let heaven, and earth, and rocks, and seas,

With glad hosannas ring.