1 When the last trumpet’s awful voice
this rending earth shall shake,
when op’ning graves shall yield their charge,
and dust to life awake;
2 those bodies that corrupted fell
shall incorrupted rise,
and mortal forms shall spring to life
immortal in the skies.
3 Behold what heav’nly prophets sung
is now at last fulfill'd,
that Death should yield his ancient reign,
and, vanquish'd, quit the field.
4 Let Faith exalt her joyful voice,
and thus begin to sing;
O Grave! where is thy triumph now?
and where, O Death! thy sting?
5 Thy sting was sin, and conscious guilt,
’twas this that arm'd thy dart;
the law gave sin its strength and force
to pierce the sinner’s heart:
6 but God, whose name be ever bless’d!
disarms that foe we dread,
and makes us conqu’rors when we die,
through Christ our living head.
7 Then stedfast let us still remain,
though dangers rise around,
and in the work prescrib'd by God
yet more and more abound;
8 assured that though we labour now,
we labour not in vain,
but, through the grace of Heav’n’s great Lord
th’ eternal crown shall gain.
Source: The Irish Presbyterian Hymbook #R50b
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