Blow, golden trumpets, sweet and clear,
Blow soft upon the perfumed air;
Bid the sad earth to join our song,
'To Christ does victory belong!'

Oh, let the winds your message bear
To every heart of grief and care;
Sound through the world the joyful lay,
'Our Christ hath conquered Death today!'

On cloudy wings let glad words fly
Through the soft blue of echoing sky:
Ring out, O trumpets, sweet and clear,
'Through Death immortal Life is here!'