The Day Draws on with Golden Light

The day draws on with gold­en light

Glad songs go echo­ing through the height

The broad earth lifts an an­swer­ing cheer

The deep makes moan with wail­ing fear.

For lo

He comes

the migh­ty King

To take from death his pow­er and sting

To tram­ple down his gloomy reign

And break the wea­ry pri­son­er’s chain.

Enclosed He lay in roc­ky cell

With guard of arm­èd sen­ti­nel;

But thence re­turn­ing

strong and free

He comes with pomp of ju­bi­lee.

The sad Apos­tles mourn Him slain

Nor hope to see their Lord again;

Their Lord

whom re­bel thralls de­fy

Arraign

ac­cuse

and doom to die.

But now they put their grief away

The pains of hell are loosed to­day;

For by the grave

with flash­ing eyes

Your Lord is ris­en

the an­gel cries.

Maker of all

to Thee we pray

Fulfill in us Thy joy to­day;

When death as­sails

grant

Lord

that we

May share Thy Pas­chal vic­to­ry.

To Thee who

dead

again

dost live

All glo­ry

Lord

Thy peo­ple give;

All glo­ry

as is ev­er meet

To Fa­ther and to Pa­ra­clete.