That Eastertide with joy was bright, The sun shone out with fairer light, When, to their longing eyes restored, The glad apostles saw their Lord. He bade them see His hands, His side, Where yet the glorious wounds abide; The tokens true which made it plain Their Lord indeed was risen again. Jesus, the King of gentleness, Do Thou Thyself our hearts possess That we may give Thee all our days The tribute of our grateful praise. O Lord of all, with us abide In this our joyful Eastertide; From every weapon death can wield Thine own redeemed forever shield. All praise be Thine, O risen Lord, From death to endless life restored; All praise to God the Father be And Holy Ghost eternally. |