Soon shall the trump of God
Give out the welcome sound,
That shakes death’s silent chamber walls,
And breaks the turf sealed ground.

You dwellers in the dust,
Awake, come forth, and sing;
Sharp has your frost of winter been,
But bright shall be your spring.

‘Twas sown in weakness here;
‘Twill then be raised in power;
That which was sown in earthly seed
Shall rise a heav’nly flower.