"Who is this in garb of light, Come to chase our night away? Who is this in glorious might, Brings to us eternal day?"
"Back! the triumph has been won;" Prone the powers of darkness lie, At the feet of God's own Son, Fresh from fields of victory.
Glory, glory, life is ours! Hades heard the shout and feared; Sin and all satanic powers Saw the Victor as He neared.
Burst the gates and cast them down, Set the sighing prisoners free; Fear not though the tyrant frown, Christ hath purchased liberty,
Sin is crushed and death is slain, See the Cross and Him who died! From the grave He rose again, Who for man was crucified.
Hail! the Resurrection day, Hail! the gladness and the gain; "He is risen," the angels say, Yea, the Lord is risen again.
When Adam heard the voice of sin And fell before its power, The flowers of Paradise were shorn Of beauty in that hour.
And clouds obscured the heavenly light, And e'en the stars were dim; For O 'twas night, and only night, Dark night 'twixt God and him.
"O whence that flashing sword that gleams? And whence those angels there?" Out from the garden of their bliss, Was thrust the guilty pair.
Life is not theirs, the tree of Life The Cherubim surround; Death dogs our guilty parents' steps, Curse blasts the fertile ground.
O dreary, dreary, dark and dread, O misery of sin! "God make another garden fair, And take Thy wanderers in."
All praise to Christ our glorious Lord, For sin and death are slain; The gates of heaven are open wide, And life is ours again.
Within the garden's sombre shade, The Christ of God in anguish prayed;-- And who that agony could tell, As from his brow the blood-drops fell?
"Can you not watch one hour?" He saith, "My soul is sorrowful to death." But He alone the vigil kept, While worn disciples slumbering slept.
O dark the cloud that threatening hung, And sore the grief His soul that wrung,-- The hate of man, the guilty name, The bitter Cross, the sin and shame.
"If I must drink this cup," He prayed, "The burden bear upon me laid, My God, I bow Me to Thy will, And meekly Thy behest fulfil."
My soul, when to the garden led, And clouds are gathering overhead, When none the hour of anguish shares, To God direct thy earnest prayers.
"Thy will be done, Thy will is best,-- Even then the bitter cup is blest,-- If 'tis Thy will the cup I'll drain, Despite the agony of pain."