tr., John Brownlie 6.6.8.6.8.8 I The stone is rolled away, The Christ hath left the tomb; Come, see the place where once He lay, Amid its awful gloom; And bring no spices for the dead, For He is risen, even as He said. II Awake! the morn is here; Awake! the night is o'er; And lo! the shadows disappear, To visit earth no more; The sun that wakes our glorious day Shall shine upon the world for aye. III Hence now the Cross and woe; Hence now the cruel spite; The weary wanderings here below, The death, the grave, the night; The power of sin is thrust aside, The gates of life are opened wide. IV Now sin and death are slain; The grave and hades groan; For He Who died now lives again, The triumph is His own; No thorns afflict His aching brow, He wears the Victor's garland now. V Hail! risen Christ, our God, The world rejoicing sings; Proclaim the tidings far abroad, That Christ is King of kings; A King by right of conquest, He Sits on His throne of majesty. |