1 Bless'd morning, whose young dawning rays Beheld our rising God, That saw him triumph o'er the dust, And leave his dark abode.
2 In the cold prison of a tomb, The dead Redeemer lay, Till the revolving skies had brought The third, th' appointed day.
3 Hell and the grave unite their force To hold our God 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.]