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 An Earthly Seed
Shall Rise A Heavenly Flower.