Easter day

THis is the Day the LORD hath made,
And therein ioyfull we will be;
For, from the blacke infernall shade,
In triumph backe return'de is He:
The snares of Satan, and of Death,
He hath victoriously vndone,
And fast in chaines he bound them hath,
His triumph to attend vpon.

The Graue, which all men did detest,
And held a dungeon full of feare,
Is now become a Bed of rest,
And no such terrors find we there.
For, Iesus Christ hath tooke away
The horror of that loathed Pit;
Eu'n euer since that glorious day,
In which himselfe came out of it.

His Mockings, and his bitter smarts,
He to our praise and ease doth turne,
And all things to our ioy conuarts,
Which he with heauy heart hath borne:
His broken flesh is now our food,
His blood he shed, is euer since,
That drinke, which doth our soules most good,
And that which shall our foulnesse clense.

Those wounds so deepe, and torne so wide,
As in a Rocke our shelters are.
And that they pierced through his side,
Is made a Doue-hole for his Deare;
Yea, now we know, as was foretolde,
His flesh did no corruption see;
And that Hell wanted strength to hold
So strong, and one so blest as He.

Oh let vs praise his Name therefore,
(Who thus the vpperhand hath woune)
For, we had else, for euermore,
Beene lost, and vtterly vndon:
Whereas this Fauour doth allow,
That we with boldnesse thus may sing;
Oh Hell, where is thy conquest now?
And thou (oh Death) where is thy sting?