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Ye humble souls that seek the Lord,
chase all your fears away;
and bow with rapture down to see
the place where Jesus lay.
Thus low the Lord of life was brought,
such wonders love can do;
thus cold in death that bosom lay,
which throbbed and bled for you.
But raise your eyes and tune your songs;
the Saviour lives again:
not all the bolts and bars of death
the conqueror could detain.
High o'er the angelic bands he rears
his once dishonoured head;
and through unnumbered years he reigns,
who dwelt among the dead.
With joy like his shall every saint
his vacant tomb survey;
then rise with his ascending Lord
to realms of endless day.