Lift up your voice, ye Christian folk,
To praise the Holy One,
Who ransoms us from Satan's yoke
Through Christ, his blessed Son.
Lo, we who were in grievous state
By reason of our sin,
Our heads look up, our fears abate,
Our triumphs now begin.
The mists hung cold, the night was black,
About the way we trod;
Our feet were stumbling from the track
Which leads the soul to God.
But Christ, who broke from death's dark shroud,
Hath sent his quickening ray:
The sun breaks through the drifting cloud,
And now 'tis glorious day.
Lift up your voice! with shout and song
Extol his majesty,
Whose power hath made the feeble strong
And caused the blind to see.
And when the sound of praise grows dim
Still may our lives forth tell,
In all we do, our love of him
Who doeth all things well.
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