| Up! up! my heart with gladness, See what to-day is done! How after gloom and sadness Comes forth the glorious Sun! My Saviour there was laid Where our bed must be made, When to the realms of light Our spirit wings its flight. | | They in the grave did sink Him, The foe held jubilee; Before he can bethink him, Lo! Christ again is free. And victory He cries, And waving tow’rds the skies His banner, while the field Is by the Hero held! | | Upon the grave is standing The Hero looking round; The foe, no more withstanding, His weapons on the ground Throws down, his hellish pow’r To Christ must he give o’er, And to the Victor’s bands Must yield his feet and hands. | | A sight it is to gladden And fill the heart with glee, No more affright or sadden Shall aught, or take from me My trust or fortitude, Or any precious good The Saviour bought for me In sov’reign love and free. | | Hell and its bands can never Hurt e’en a single hair, Sin can I mock at ever, Safe am I everywhere. 73 The mighty pow’r of death Is my regard beneath; It is a pow’rless form, Howe’er it rage and storm. | | The world my laughter ever Moves, though it rage amain, It rages, but can never Do ill, its work is vain. No trouble troubles me, My heart from care is free, Misfortune is my prize, The night my fair sunrise. | | I cleave, and cleave shall ever, To Christ, a member true, Shall part from my Head never, Whate’er He passes through; He treads the world beneath His feet, and conquers death And hell, and breaks sin’s thrall; I’m with Him through it all. | | To halls of heav’nly splendour With Him I penetrate; And trouble ne’er may hinder Nor make me hesitate. What will, may angry be, My Head accepteth me, My Saviour is my Shield, By Him all rage is still’d. | | He to the gates me leadeth Of yon fair realms of light, Whereon the pilgrim readeth, In golden letters bright: “Who’s there despised with me, Here with me crown’d shall be; Who there with me shall die, Here’s raised with me on high!” | |