This Joyful Eastertide

This joyful Eastertide, Away with sin and sorrow! My love, the crucified, Has sprung to life this morrow. Had Christ, who once was slain, Not burst his three-day prison, Our faith had been in vain: But now has Christ arisen, arisen, Arisen, arisen. My flesh in hope shall rest, And for a season slumber, Till trump from east to west Shall wake the dead in number. 3 Death's flood has lost its chill, Since Jesus crossed the river: Lover of souls, from ill My passing soul deliver.