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.]