Shout praises, ye heavens

Shout praises, ye heavens,
And sigh them, soft air;
From highest to lowest,
Sing, sing everywhere;
For black clouds of tempest
Are banished from sight;
And spring, crowned with glory,
Is pouring her light.

Come forth with the spring-time,
Sweet flow'rets, and spread
Your rich hues around us
Where nature lay dead;
Come, violets modest,
And roses so gay,
With lilies and marigolds,
Spangle the way.

Flow joy song in fulness,
Flow higher and higher;
Pour forth thy sweet measures,
Thou murmuring lyre;
O sing, for He liveth,
As truly He said,
Yea, Jesus hath risen
Unharmed from the dead.

Shout praises, ye mountains,
Vales catch the refrain;
Frisk gaily, ye fountains;
Hills, tell it again—
He liveth, He liveth,
As truly He said;
Yea, Jesus hath risen
Unharmed from the dead.