III
Clouds of darkness, bow the head, Weep in raindrops in the night!
Sorrow now is chased from sight, For the living Christ was dead.
IV
Heaven above, and earth below,-- Men and angels raise the strain, Death could not the Christ retain,-- Let your praises endless flow.
V
Ah, the spear, the thorns, the nails, Ah, the dying and the death, And the slow expiring breath,-- But the suffering Christ prevails.
VI
Where can death bestow his prey?
Can he hold the Lord of life?
Better he had shirked the strife, Than have lost his power for aye.
VII
Rise, O glorious...o...b..of day!
Christ no longer fills the grave, He hath risen with power to save,-- Rise, and clear our night away.
ASCENSION
{anabas eis hypsos.}
Ascension.
I
Borne on the clouds the Christ arose To where the light celestial glows, Till, farther than the eye could view, He pa.s.sed the heavenly portals through.
II
Ended the weary life below, The painful toil, the grief, the woe; The conflict of the cross is past, And sin and death are slain at last.
III
Now, list the heavenly song begun By hosts in garments like the sun; Lift up, lift up your heads, ye gates!
The glorious King an entrance waits.
IV
Ascended Christ! in mercy yet, Think of the hearts on Olivet, And in Thy wondrous grace restore Thy living Presence gone before.
V
And let the Spirit"s aid revive Our waiting souls that faithful strive, Till from our Olivet we soar, To dwell with Thee for evermore.
{arate pylas.}
I
Lift up the gates, The Lord of heaven appears; Thrust wide the doors, The King of glory nears; The throne is His Whose arm of might O"erthrew the tyrant in the fight.
II
Lift up the gates,-- The gates of hades fell; Thrust wide the doors, He burst the doors of h.e.l.l, And prisoners in the dark abode, Exulting, hailed the Son of G.o.d.
III
Lift up the gates,-- No power His might can meet; Thrust wide the doors, The foe is at His feet; The path is cleared, the prize is won, Enter, Thou all-victorious Son.
IV
Lift up the gates,-- They come who welcome win; Thrust wide the doors, And let His followers in; They come from toil and conflict long, Ten thousand times ten thousand strong.
V
Lift up the gates,-- Still valiant deeds are done; Thrust wide the doors, For laurels yet are won; And when the victor sheathes his sword, Receive the follower of his Lord.
I
Borne on the wings of light, Behold the Lord ascend, Up to the portals bright Where heavenly powers attend, And fling the gates of glory wide, While praises rise like flowing tide.
II
Back to the Father"s bliss From war and strife below, From toil and loneliness "Mid scenes of sin and woe;-- Loud plaudits hail the Victor now, Who comes with triumph on His brow.
III
Lord, in the peace of heaven, Far from our toil and pain, Think of the promise given, And come to us again;-- Remember, Thou, the toilsome road, That brought Thee to Thy blest abode.