The Morning Purples All the Sky

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.