EASTER
Cometh the Wrestler,
But Death he makes no stir,
Utterly spent and done,
And all his kingdom gone.
But Death he makes no stir,
Utterly spent and done,
And all his kingdom gone.
Bring flowers, make holiday,
In His triumphal way.
Salve ye with kisses
His hurts that make your blisses.
In His triumphal way.
Salve ye with kisses
His hurts that make your blisses.
Bring flowers, make holiday,
For His triumphal way:
Yea, fling before Him
Hearts of men that adore Him.
For His triumphal way:
Yea, fling before Him
Hearts of men that adore Him.
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