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The wards are past—the iron gate
Turns freely for the angelic guest,
And in the open street they wait,
When past that vision from the blest.
Turns freely for the angelic guest,
And in the open street they wait,
When past that vision from the blest.
The angel fled—then Peter knew,
When from his sudden trance he rose,
Deliverance from the Lord he drew,
From Herod and his faithless foes.
When from his sudden trance he rose,
Deliverance from the Lord he drew,
From Herod and his faithless foes.
And is not our's a purer light,
A nobler visitant of heaven?
Celestial visions bless our sight,
Celestial hopes to us are given.
A nobler visitant of heaven?
Celestial visions bless our sight,
Celestial hopes to us are given.
In our dark prison bound below,
The voice of Jesus still is heard;
And some their chains will from them throw,
And rise to meet their coming Lord.
The voice of Jesus still is heard;
And some their chains will from them throw,
And rise to meet their coming Lord.
Those prison-doors he soon shall break,
The iron gates of death shall free;
His faithful followers shall partake
His own all-glorious liberty!
The iron gates of death shall free;
His faithful followers shall partake
His own all-glorious liberty!
