Blest Morning Whose Young Dawning Rays

in the cold prison of a tomb

the dead redeemer lay,

till the revolving skies had brought

the third, th’appointed day.

hell and the grave unite their force

to hold our god in vain;

the sleeping conqueror arose,

and burst their feeble chain.

to thy great name, almighty lord,

these sacred hours we pay;

and loud hosannahs shall proclaim

the triumph of the day.

salvation and immortal praise

to our victorious king;

let heav’n, and earth, and rocks, and seas,

with glad hosannahs ring.