And her prison house forsakes.
Hear the glad bird-voices sing:--
"Where, O Death, is now thy sting?"
Winds their silver trumpets blow:--
"He hath conquered every foe."
Soft the murmuring waters say:--
"Lo, the stone is rolled away."
He is risen, He is risen
Christ the Lord is risen to-day.
He is risen! Heart, rejoice,
Hear you not the angel's voice?
Though you wait beside the tomb,
There is light within its gloom:
Grave, where is thy victory?
He hath set thy captives free,
He hath robbed thee of thy prey,
They with Him shall live alway.
He is risen, He is risen,
Christ the Lord is risen to-day.
~Annie Johnson Flint
