1 'Twas at the matin hour,
Before the early dawn;
The prison doors flew open,
The bolts of death were drawn.
2 'Twas at the matin hour,
When pray'rs of saints are strong;
When two short days ago He bore
The spitting, wounds, and wrong.
3 From realms unseen, an unseen way,
Th' Almighty Saviour came,
And following on His silent steps,
An Angel armed in flame.
4 The stone is rolled away,
The keepers fainting fall,
Satan and Pilate's watchmen,
The day has scared them all.
5 The Angel came full early,
But Christ had gone before,
Not for Himself, but for His Saints,
Is burst the prison door.
6 When all His Saints assemble,
Make haste ere twilight cease,
His Easter blessing to receive,
And so lie down in peace.
Source: Voices of Praise: for school and church and home #381