Isaac Watts

8,6,8,6

Blest morning! whose first dawning rays

beheld the Son of God

Arise triumphant from the grave,

and leave his dark abode.

Wrapt in the silence of the tomb,

the great Redeemer lay,

Till the revolving skies had brought

the third, th' appointed day.

Hell and the grave combined their force

to hold our Lord in vain;

Sudden the Conqueror arose,

and burst their feeble chain.

To thy great name, Almighty Lord!

we sacred honours pay,

And loud hosannahs shall proclaim

the triumphs of the day.

Salvation and immortal praise

to our victorious King!

Let heav'n and earth, and rocks and seas,

with glad hosannahs ring.

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

the God whom we adore,

Be glory, as it was, and is,

and shall be evermore.