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38

VII

8,8,8,8

Light, ere the dawn in beauty broke,

Sprang from the darkness and the gloom,

When Christ the King from death awoke,

And burst the fetters of the tomb.

Light of our souls, a glorious day,

Rose on the darkness of our world;

Hell and his hosts, in black array,

Then from the seat of power were hurled.

Hope of the hearts by anguish wrung,

Light of the eyes bedimmed by woe,

When, on the Cross forsaken, hung

He Who had shared their life below.

All hail, the Christ! Immortal Thou!

Death and the grave are conquered quite;

Gone is the power that held us, now,

Gone are the terrors of the night.

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