The Morning Purples All The Sky
The air with praises rings,
Defeated hell stands sullen by,
The world exulting sings.
Glory to God! our glad lips cry;
All praise and worship be
On earth, in heaven, to God most high,
For Christ’s great victory,
For Christ’s great victory.
While He, the King all strong to save,
Rends the dark doors away,
And through the breaches of the grave,
Strides forth into the day.
Death’s captive, in his gloomy prison,
Fast fettered He has lain,
But He has mastered death, is risen,
And death now wears the chain.
The shining angels cry, Away
With grief; no spices bring;
Not tears, but songs, this joyful day,
Should greet the rising King!”
That Thou our Paschal Lamb may’st be,
And endless joy begin.
Jesus, Deliverer, set us free
From the dread death of sin.