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Light's glittering morn bedecks the sky,

heaven thunders forth its victor cry,

the glad earth shouts its triumph high,

and groaning hell makes wild reply:

2 While he, the King of glorious might,

treads down death's strength in death's despite,

and trampling hell by victor's right,

brings forth his sleeping Saints to light.

3 Fast barred beneath the stone of late

in watch and ward where soldiers wait,

now shining in triumphant state,

He rises Victor from death's gate.

4 Hell's pains are loosed, and tears are fled;

captivity is captive led;

the Angel, crowned with light, hath said,

'The Lord is risen from the dead.'

5 O Christ, the King who lovest to bless,

do thou our hearts and souls possess;

to thee our praise that we may pay,

to whom our laud is due for aye.]