Who from the fiery furnace saved the Three,

Suffers as mortal; that, His Passion o’er,

This mortal, triumphing o’er death, might be

Vested with immortality once more:

He Whom our fathers still confest

GOD over all, for ever blest.

The women with their ointment seek the Tomb:

And Whom they mourned as dead, with many a tear,

They worship now, joy dawning on their gloom,

As Living GOD, as mystic Passover;

Then to the LORD’s Disciples gave

The tidings of the vanquished grave.

We keep the festal of the death of death;

Of hell overthrown: the first-fruits pure and bright,

Of life eternal; and with joyous breath

Praise Him that won the victory by His might:

Him Whom our fathers still confest

GOD over all, for ever blest.

All hallowed festival, in splendour born!

Night of salvation and of glory! Night

Fore-heralding the Resurrection morn!

When from the tomb the everlasting Light,

A glorious frame once more his own,

Upon the world in splendour shone.