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39

JESUS Christ is risen to-day,
Our triumphant holy day,
Who did once upon the cross
Suffer to redeem our loss.

Hallelujah!

Hymns of praise then let us sing
Unto Christ our heavenly King;
Who endur'd the cross and grave,
Sinners to redeem and save.

Hallelujah!

But the pain which He endured
Our salvation hath procured :
Now above the sky He 's King,
Where the angels ever sing.

Hallelujah!

7.

40

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.

Love's redeeming work is done,
Fought the fight, the battle won;
Death in vain forbids His rise;
Christ hath open'd Paradise.

7.

41

Lives again our glorious King;
Where, O death, is now thy sting?
Once He died our souls to save;
Where's thy victory, O grave?

Hail, Thou Lord of earth and heaven,
Praise to Thee by both be given;
Thee we greet triumphant now,
Hail, the Resurrection Thou!

THE happy morn is come;
Triumphant o'er the grave
The Saviour leaves the tomb,
Omnipotent to save:

Captivity is captive led,

For Jesus liveth that was dead.

Who now accuseth them

For whom their surety died?
Who now shall those condemn
Whom God hath justified?

Captivity is captive led,

For Jesus liveth that was dead.

Christ hath the ransom paid,
The glorious work is done;
On Him our help is laid,

By Him our vict'ry won:

Captivity is captive led,

For Jesus liveth that was dead.

P. M.

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43

THIS is the day the Lord hath made;
He calls the hours his own;
Let heaven rejoice, let earth be glad,
And praise surround the throne.

To-day He rose, and left the dead,
And Satan's empire fell;
To-day the saints his triumph spread,
And all his wonders tell.

Hosanna to th' anointed King,
To David's holy Son!

Help us, O Lord; descend and bring
Salvation from thy throne.

Hosanna, in the highest strains

The Church on earth can raise ;
The highest heavens in which He reigns
Shall give Him nobler praise!

WHEN Christ, victorious from the grave,
Ascended up on high,

He gave to all his saints a pledge,

That they should never die.

Though for a time they sleep in dust,

Each resting in his bed,

Soon the Archangel's trump shall sound,

And call them from the dead.

C. M.

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