The night is spent; the morning ray
1
The night is spent; the morning rayComes ushering in the glorious day,The promised time of rest.Hark! 'tis the trumpet sounding clear,Its joyful notes burst on the ear,Proclaiming tidings blest.
2
Ah! see, the graves are opening now,The saints come forth, and every browBeams with a radiant joy;To life immortal they arise,Inheritors of Paradise,Where death cannot destroy.
3
Stupendous scene! those men of old,—Prophets, who have the story toldOf this transcendent day,The patriarchs, apostles too,Who lived and died with it in view,Come forth in bright array.
4
Now satisfied; for like their Lord,Whose promise shines within the word,His likeness they should wear;A glittering host, like stars on high,In glory and in majesty,Upon the earth appear!