1 Morning spreads her crimson rays,
Heav’n resounds with hymns of praise,
Through the earth loud anthems swell,
Heard with rage in vanquished hell.
2 From the dark sepulchral gloom
See the King of Glory come:
See Him now from bondage freed
All His saints to daylight lead.
3 Vain the tomb securely barred,
Sealèd stone, and armèd guard:
Death is crushed, and finds his bier
In the Conqueror’s sepulcher.
4 Hence with mourning, hence with tears,
Hence with anxious griefs and fears;
"Death’s subduer is not here,"
Cries His angel minister.
5 That these thoughts of paschal joy
Ever may our minds employ,
Dead to sin, Thy servants give,
Lord, in holiness to live.
6 Now be God the Father praised,
With the Son in triumph raised
From the grave, His glory’s heir,
And the blessèd Comforter.
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #11936
|First Line:||Morning spreads her crimson rays|
|Title:||Morning Spreads her Crimson Rays|
|Author:||Ambrose of Milan, 340-397|
|Source:||Ancient Hymns from the Roman Breviary (London, J. G. & F. Rivington, 1837)|