The Three
Strength find the angels in Thy sight,
Though none may hope to fathom Thee;
Still glorious are Thy works of might,
As when first form’d in majesty.
III Chorus of Angels
Christ is arisen!
Mortal, all hail!
Thou, of Earth’s prison
Dreary and frail,
Bursting the veil,
Proudly hast risen!
Chorus of Women
Rich spices and myrrh,
To embalm Him we brought;
His corpse to inter
His true followers sought.
In pure cerements shrin’d,
’Twas placed in the bier
But, alas! we now find
That Christ is not here.