Come, ye faithful, raise the strain
by Horn
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1. Come, ye faithful raise the strain
Of triumphant gladness;
God has 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.

2. 'Tis the spring of souls to-day;
Christ has burst the prison,
And from three days' sleep in death
As a sun has risen;
All the winter of our sins,
Long and dark is flying
From his light, to whom we give
Laud and praise undying.

3. Now the queen of seasons, bright
With the day of splendor,
With the royal feast of feasts,
Comes its joy to render;
Comes to gladden faithful hearts
Who with true affection
Welcome in unwearied strains
Jesus' resurrection.

4. Neither could the gates of death,
Nor the tomb's dark portal,
Nor the watchers, nor the seal
Hold him as a mortal;
For today among the Twelve
Christ appeared bestowing
Lasting peace which evermore
Passes human knowing.

5. "Alleluia!" now we cry
To our King immortal,
Who, triumphant, burst the bars
Of the tomb's dark portal;
"Alleluia!" with the Son,
God the Father praising;
"Alleluia!" yet again
To the Spirit raising.

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