3. Vain the stone, the watch, the seal,
Christ has burst the gates of hell:
Death in vain forbids his rise,
Christ hath open'd Paradise.
4 Lives again our glorious King;
Where, O Death, is now thy sting?
Once he died our souls to save;
Where's thy victory, boasting Grave?
5 Soar we now where Christ has led,
Following our exalted Head:
Made like him, like him we rise,-
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies.
6 Hail the Lord of earth and heaven!
Praise to thee by both be given!
Thee we greet triumphant now,
Hail! the Resurrection,-thou!
10, the stone is roll'd away;
Death yields up his mighty prey;
Jesus, rising from the tomb,
Scatters all its fearful gloom.
2 Praise him, ye celestial choirs!
Praise, and sweep your golden lyres !
Praise him in the noblest songs,
From ten thousand thousand tongues.
3 Every note with rapture swell,
And the Saviour's triumph tell :
Where, O Death! is now thy sting?
Where thy terrors, vanquish'd king?
4 Let Immanuel be ador'd, Ransom, Mediator, Lord! To creation's utmost bound
Let the eternal praise resound.
1 MORNING breaks upon the tomb, Jesus dissipates its gloom!
Day of triumph through the skies-
See the glorious Saviour rise!
2 Christians, dry your flowing tears,
Chase those unbelieving fears;
Look on his deserted grave,
Doubt no more his power to save.
3 Ye, who are of death afraid,
Triumph in the scatter'd shade;
Drive your anxious cares away,
See the place where Jesus lay.
4 So the rising sun appears,
Shedding radiance o'er the spheres ;
So returning beams of light
Chase the terrors of the night.
149. (EPHES. iv. 8-10.)
1 HOSANNA to the Prince of light,
That cloth'd himself in clay,
Enter'd the iron gates of death,
And tore the bars away.
2 Death is no more the king of dread,
Since our Immanuel rose ;
He took the tyrant's sting away,
And spoil'd our hellish foes.
3 See how the Conqueror mounts aloft,
And to his Father flies,
With scars of honour in his flesh,
And triumph in his eyes.
4 There our exalted Saviour reigns's
And scatters blessings down;
Our Jesus fills the middle seat
Of the celestial throne.
5 Raise your devotion, mortal tongues,
To reach his bless'd abode ;
Sweet be the accents of your songs
To our incarnate God.
6 Bright angels, strike your loudest strings, Your sweetest voices raise :
Let heaven, and all created things,
Sound our Immanuel's praise.
AIL the day that sees him rise,
Ravish'd from our wishful eyes:
Christ, awhile to mortals given,
Rescends his native heaven;
There the mighty hero waits,
Lift your heads, etérnal gates!
Wide unfold the radiant scene,
Take the King of Glory in.
2 Circled round with angel powers,
Their triumphant Lord and ours;
Conqueror o'er death, hell, and sin,
Take the King of Glory in:
Him though highest heaven receives,
Still he loves the earth he leaves;
Though returned to his throne,
Still he calls mankind his own.
3 Ever upward may we move,
Wafted on the wings of love;
Looking when our Lord shall come,
Longing, gasping after home!
There may we with thee remain,
Partners of thine endless reign;
There thy face unclouded see,
Find our heaven of heavens in thee!
1OUR Lord is risen from the dead,
Our Jesus is gone up on high!
The powers of hell are captive led,
Dragg'd to the portals of the sky;
2 There his triumphal chariot waits,
And angels chant the solemn lay:
Lift up your heads, ye heavenly gates;
Ye everlasting doors, give way.
3 Loose all your bars of massy light,
And wide unfold the ethereal scene;
He claims these mansions as his right;
Receive the King of Glory in.
4 Who is the King of Glory, who?
The Lord that all our foes o'ercame;
The world, sin, death, and hell o'erthrew ;
And Jesus is the Conqueror's Name.
5 Lo! his triumphal chariot waitsji wrz yoďT 3
And angels chant the solemn layl diW
Lift up your heads, ye heavenly gates!
Ye everlasting doors, give wayford W
6 Who is the King of Glory, who?
The Lord of glorious power possest;
The King of saints and angels too, bagsi
God over all for ever blest. P
1 BEYOND the glittering starry skies,
Far as the eternal hills,
There, in the boundless world of light,
The great Redeemer dwells.
2 Legions of angels, strong and fair,
In countless armies shine
At his right hand, with golden harps,
To offer songs divine.
3 Hail, Prince! they cry-for ever hail!
Whose unexampled love
Mov'd thee to quit those glorious realms
And royalties above.
4 Whilst he did condescend on earth
To suffer scorn and pain,
They cast their honours at his feet,
And waited in his train.
5 Through all his travels here below,
They did his steps attend;
Oft gaz'd and wonder'd where at last
This mystic scene would end.
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