tr., John Brownlie
Life from the dead the King Immortal gives,
Who from the grave arose and ever lives;
Slain is the foe, the foe by death is slain,
By Him Who died, and rose to life again.
Sight to the blind this morn of beauty brings,
As from the dark it speeds with glowing wings;
Grope they no more, nor stumble in the night;
Christ hath arisen, the one Immortal Light.
Joy to the sad, to hearts by sorrow wrung;
Gone are the clouds that dark and threatening hung;
Night weeps no more, for lo! the morn awakes,
And all creation into music breaks.
Hope to the lost, among the wilds forlorn,
Far from their home, by prickly tangle torn;
Straight to the eye the path ascending lies,
Clear in the light that fills the morning skies.
Mortals awake! The Resurrection morn,
Fresh from the dark of death's grim night is born;
Mortals awake! the morn in beauty glows;
Life is the gift the risen Lord bestows.