God of all pow­er, and truth, and grace,
Thou hast in­creased the ho­ly seed;
Thou hast in­creased the chos­en race,
The souls from sin for ev­er freed.

Thou in Thy saints art glo­ri­fied,
Thou hast in them Thine im­age shown;
Shepherdless souls they wan­dered wide,
Till called and per­fect made in One.

All we like sheep have gone as­tray,
To earth’s re­mot­est bounds re­moved,
Till Je­sus showed Him­self the Way,
And kind­ly chast­ened whom He loved.

To Thee we in our trou­ble turned,
Constrained Thy chas­tise­ments to bear,
We then our sin and fol­ly mourned,
And poured out all our soul in pray­er.

As wo­men, when their time draws nigh,
Cry out in sore dis­tress, and pain,
So have we tra­vailed, in Thine eye,
And strug­gled to be born again.

In ang­uish, ago­ny, and grief,
For years our la­bor­ing souls have been,
Nor could we bring our­selves relief,
Nor could we save our­selves from sin.

Our toil and strife availed us not,
Abortive proved our hope, and vain,
For we have no de­liv­er­ance wrought,
For yet we were not born again.

The world did not be­fore us fall,
We still had not the vic­to­ry,
The migh­ty faith that con­quers all,
And makes the soul for ev­er free.

But they who sank in self des­pair,
Death’s sen­tence in thems­elves re­ceive;
The quick­en­ing Voice div­ine shall hear,
And dead with Christ, with Christ, shall live.

The Spir­it that raised Him from the dead,
My mor­tal bo­dy shall inspire,
Shall raise us all with Christ our head,
And hal­low and bap­tize with fire.

Awake and sing, ye souls that dwell
Indignant in the shade of death;
Our Lord, who burst the gates of hell,
Shall bear you from the gulf be­neath.

As herbs re­vived by ver­nal dew,
Spring from the earth, and flour­ish fair,
Ye all shall rise with ver­dure new,
And fruit unto per­fect­ion bear.

The hour shall come, the Gos­pel hour,
When all that wait, His pow­er shall prove,
His re­sur­rect­ion’s glo­ri­ous pow­er,
And live the life of faith and love.

They from the death of sin shall rise,
Preventing here the ge­ne­ral doom,
When Christ the Lord shall bow the skies,
And all man­kind to judg­ment come.

The earth shall then cast out its dead,
While all who per­ished un­for­giv’n,
Horribly lift their guil­ty head,
And rise, to be shut out from Heav’n.

“Come, lit­tle flock (My people now
My Is­rael, if thy heart be clean);
Enter into thy cham­ber thou,
Exclude the world, the hell of sin.

“Betake thee to the sec­ret place,
Safe in My ta­ber­na­cle rest,
O hide thee for a lit­tle space,
Be shel­tered in thy Sav­ior’s breast.

“Rest, till the storm is all o’er­past,
For lo! the Lord from Heav’n shall come,
Judgment to ex­ecute at last,
And seal the guil­ty sin­ner’s doom.

“The sea shall then its dead re­store,
The earth shall then dis­close her blood,
Shelter their car­cass­es no more,
Or screen them from an ang­ry God.

“Dragged from their graves, they then shall call
On rocks their quick­ened dust t’en­tomb,
And bid the burn­ing mount­ains fall
To hide them from the hell to come.

The wrath is come, the curse takes place,
The slaves of sin re­ceive their hire,
And pun­ished from My glo­ri­ous face,
They sink in­to eter­nal fire.