Past Are the Cross, the Scourge, the Thorn

Alleluia! Al­le­lu­ia! Al­le­lu­ia!

Past are the cross

the scourge

the thorn

The scoff­ing tongue

the jibe

the scorn

And bright­ly breaks the East­er morn.

Alleluia.

Gone are the gloomy clouds of night;

The shades of death are put to flight

And from the tomb beams heav’n­ly light.

Alleluia.

And so in sor­row dark and drear

Though black the night

the morn is near;

Soon shall the heav’nly day ap­pear

Alleluia.

And when death’s dark­ness dims our eyes

From out the gloom our souls shall rise

In death­less glo­ry to the skies.

Alleluia.

Then let us raise the glo­ri­ous strain

Love’s tri­umph over sin and pain

Faith’s vic­to­ry o’er ter­ror’s reign.

Alleluia.