Gold, brightly gleam in eastern sky!
The Lord of glory leads on high
From out Death's grace, past stars and suns,
Adoring hosts of shining ones,
Their joyful souls, redeemed, forgiven,
For He, Death's Conqueror, is risen!
Leaves, gaily flutter on the trees!
He scorneth not the least of these
Repentant ones, marred with earth's strife,
But leads them to the Tree of Life,
And by His blood their souls are shriven,
For He, the Lord of Life, is risen.
Birds, sweetly sing in ether blue!
Since every word of God is true
Some day in heaven's crystal light
I, too, shall walk, my soul made white,
And sing of pardon freely given
For He, the Saviour of the world is risen!
Grace W. Haight