Again the Morn of Gladness

Again the morn of glad­ness

The morn of light

is here;

And earth it­self looks fair­er

And Heav­en it­self more near;

The bells

like an­gel voic­es

Speak peace to ev­ery breast;

And all the land lies qui­et

To keep the day of rest.

Glory be to Je­sus

Let all His child­ren say;

He rose again

He rose again

On this glad day.

Again

O lov­ing Sav­ior

The child­ren of Thy grace

Prepare them­selves to seek Thee

Within Thy chos­en place.

Our song shall rise to greet Thee

If Thou our hearts wilt raise;

If Thou our lips wilt op­en

Our mouth shall show Thy praise.

The shin­ing choir of an­gels

That rest not day or night

The crowned and palm-decked mar­tyrs

The saints ar­rayed in white

The hap­py lambs of Je­sus

In pas­tures fair ab­ove

These all ad­ore and praise Him

Whom we

too

praise and love.

The Church on earth rej­oic­es

To join with these to­day;

In ev­ery tongue and na­tion

She calls her sons to pray;

Across the north­ern snow fields

Beneath the In­di­an palms

She makes the same pure of­fer­ing

And sings the same sweet psalms.

Tell out

sweet bells

His prais­es!

O let us sing His name!

Still loud­er and still far­ther

His migh­ty deeds pro­claim;

Till all whom He re­deem­èd

Shall own Him Lord and king

Till ev­ery knee shall wor­ship

And ev­ery tongue shall sing.