Haunting gloom and flitting shades,
Ghastly shapes, away!
Christ is rising, and pervades
Highest Heaven with day.
He with His bright spear the night
Dazzles and pursues;
Earth wakes up, and glows with light
Of a thousand hues.
Thee, O Christ, and Thee alone,
With a single mind,
We with chant and plaint would own:
To Thy flock be kind.
Much it needs Thy light divine,
Spot and stain to clean;
Light of Angels, on us shine
With Thy face serene.
To the Father, and the Son,
And the Holy Ghost,
Here be glory, as is done
By the angelic host.