Come, ye faithful, raise the strain Of triumphant gladness; God hath brought his Israel Into joy from sadness; Loosed from Pharaoh's bitter yoke Jacob's sons and daughters; Led them with unmoistened foot Through the Red Sea waters. 'Tis the spring of souls to-day; Christ hath burst his prison, And from three days' sleep in death As a sun hath risen; All the winter of our sins, Long and dark, is flying From his light, to whom we give Laud and praise undying. Now the queen of seasons, bright With the day of splendour, With the royal feast of feasts, Comes its joy to render; Comes to glad Jerusalem, Who with true affection Welcomes in unwearied strains Jesu's Resurrection. Neither might the gates of death, Nor the tomb's dark portal, Nor the watchers, nor the seal, Hold thee as a mortal; But today amidst thine own Thou didst stand, bestowing That thy peace which evermore Passeth human knowing.