3 Then back to heaven they fly, The joyful news to bear; Hark! as they soar on high What music fills the air: Their anthems say, Jesus who bled Has left the dead— He rose to-day! 4 You mortals, catch the sound, Redeemed by him from hell, And send the echo round The globe on which you dwell: Transported cry, Jesus who bled Has left the dead No more to die! 5 All hail! triumphant Lord, Who saved us by thy blood: Wide be thy name adored, Thou reigning Son of God! With thee we rise, With thee we reign, And kingdoms gain Beyond the skies. 189 7s. The stone rolled away. Angels! roll the rock away; Death! yield up thy mighty prey; See! the Saviour leaves the tomb, Glowing with immortal bloom. 2 Hark! the wondering angels raise Louder notes of joyful praise: Let the earth’s remotest bound Echo with the blissful sound. 3 Now, ye saints! lift up your eyes, See him high in glory rise! Ranks of angels, on the road, Hail him—the incarnate God. 4 Heaven unfolds its portals wide, See the Conqueror through them ride! King of glory! mount thy throne— Boundless empire is thine own. 5 Praise him, ye celestial choirs! Tune, and sweep your golden lyres: Raise, O earth! your noblest songs, From ten thousand thousand tongues. 190 7s. Christ, the first fruits. Christ, the Lord, is risen to-day! Sons of men and angels say: Raise your joys and triumphs high: Sing ye heavens! thou earth reply! 2 Love’s redeeming work is done, Fought the fight, the battle won: Lo! our Sun’s eclipse is o’er; Lo! he sets in blood no more. 3 Vain the stone, the watch, the seal— Christ hath burst the gates of hell; Death in vain forbids his rise, Christ hath opened 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 hath led, Following our exalted Head: Made like him, like him we rise, Ours the cross, the grave, the skies! 6 King of glory, Fount of bliss, Everlasting life is this: Thee to know, thy power to prove, Thus to sing, and thus to love. 191 7s. The Resurrection. Morning breaks upon the tomb, Jesus scatters all its gloom; Day of triumph through the skies— See the glorious Saviour rise! 2 Ye who are of death afraid, Triumph in the scattered shade; Drive your anxious cares away; See the place where Jesus lay! 3 Christian! dry your flowing tears, Chase your unbelieving fears; Look on his deserted grave; Doubt no more his power to save.